“Who I am is irrelevant. What matters is that, as of this moment, every soul here walks free,” Jared answered.
“Insolent cur!” Maurice thundered. “Do you realize whose domain this is?! Obsidian Stone Sect rules these grounds. Your defiance is a death wish!”
“Death wish?” Jared answered with a single, contemptuous laugh that seemed to thud off every wall. “You think a pack of half-trained rejects can threaten me?” One of the enforcers stammered, outrage hitching in his throat. “Y-You arrogant fool!”
Maurice let a dark smile twist across his face. “Since talk won’t teach you respect, perhaps a little blood will!”
Pebbles rattled underfoot when Maurice stepped forward, every movement promising violence the way thunder promises rain. Jared raised one palm. “Hold it!”
He met Maurice’s gaze without blinking. “Before we trade blows, I have a few questions, a courtesy I doubt you deserve, yet I’ll offer it anyway.”
Maurice scoffed, chin tilting high. “What makes you think you‘ve earned the right to question me?” Jared’s reply was quiet, so calm it chilled the air. “Because I can kill every soul here, and you know it.”
A bead of sweat traced Maurice’s temple, the aura radiating from Jared felt like a drawn blade pressed to his throat. He swallowed hard.
“W-Who exactly are you?” The bravado in his tone buckled into wary respect.
“I’m Jared Chance,” said, voice steady as leveled granite. “Tell me… Who is the Celestial Immortal that descended from the celestial realm, and why does order you to forge spiritual stones into celestial gems?”
Color drained from Maurice’s cheeks. “H-How do you even know that being exists?”
A faint smile touched Jared’s lips. “So I was right. Answer the question.”
Maurice’s eyes flickered with calculation, as though weighing the terror of the Celestial Immortal against the danger standing before him.
Jared’s smile vanished. “What’s wrong, tongue tied? Or are you simply afraid that once you speak, your so-called Celestial Immortal will snuff you out?”
Maurice’s complexion curdled further, fear clawed at the edges of his composure.
“Talk,” Jared said, his tone dropping to an arctic hush. “Or prepare to die here and now…”
An enforcer could bear no more. “Grand Elder, why waste breath? Let’s butcher him!”
Howling, lunged, a demonic sword cleaving the air toward Jared’s skull.
“Fool…” Jared’s snort was almost bored. He flicked his wrist as though brushing aside dust.
Invisible force slammed the charging enforcer across the hall. Bones snapped like dry twigs before his body hit the flagstones and slid no farther. Breathless silence followed.
Every spectator froze, horror widening their eyes. No one had imagined Jared’s power ran that deep, until now. Maurice’s voice quivered. “W-What cultivation level have you reached?”
Tremors coursed through his limbs, the aura around Jared battered his courage like a gale against a tattered flag.
“My cultivation level is irrelevant,” Jared replied, turning slightly so torchlight rimmed his silhouette in gold. “Only two paths lie before you, answer me, or die.”
Maurice’s face hardened to an ashen mask. For the first time in his long life, realized was standing before an enemy might never defeat.
“F-Fine… I’ll answer your question. That immortal calls himself Immortal Lord Nimbus. He ordered us to refine common spiritual stones into celestial gems, never saying why. He simply gives the order, then shows up from time to time and hauls the gems away.”
Jared frowned, tasting the unfamiliar title. “Immortal Lord Nimbus?” he echoed, certain had never heard that name uttered in any realm.
He realized that celestial realm cultivators loved parading through the lower realms with grandiose titles, Immortal Lord, Demon Emperor, yet their actual strength rarely matched their bragging.
The moment the thought drifted through him, a gruff, amused voice boomed inside his skull.
“Brat, are you mocking me?” Vermilion Demon Lord’s tone crackled across Jared’s mind like distant thunder, thick with prickly displeasure. Startled, Jared muttered a mental apology. “Mr. Vermilion, I was just thinking aloud… No offense meant.”
Vermilion Demon Lord chuckled. “Hmph! Titles are currency on the road. In a low-level realm, forging a glorious one is half the battle.”
