“Easy now, son,” another elder, Bartram Barrington, rumbled, stroking his rounded chin. “It’s not that we don’t believe you, but this is just too absurd. Young man, can you present evidence to prove such marvels?”
Like the late Garrick, the council could not reconcile such power with a mere Human Immortal. Gavin and Yvette felt sweat bead along their brows. They tried to speak, but Arden’s knife-edge glance sliced the words before birth.
Paxton kept his silence, golden eyes fixed on Jared as though he would read the stranger’s soul by sheer will. Jared, for his part, remained as calm as still water, returning Paxton’s stare without a single flicker of emotion.
To the elders, that silence resembled not confidence but the hollow hush of hidden guilt.
Arden gave a chilly snort. “Master, the matter stinks of subterfuge. A drifter of low cultivation boasting impossible might—clearly a demon sect plant using the oldest ruse of all. Detain him, and we shall have the truth by nightfall.”
The temperature in the hall seemed to drop as tension drew every muscle tight. Several elders dipped their chins in silent agreement.
Gavin and Yvette went sheet-white. The choking aura held their throats closed; not a syllable escaped.
Then, the small Fire Unicorn perched on Jared’s shoulder sensed the hostility. It growled, a crack of volcanic earth, and ribbons of crimson-gold flame roared upward, licking the rafters in defiant warning.
A wave of regal, undiluted beastly majesty unfurled from the small Fire Unicorn. The solemn oppression that had weighed on the grand hall, emanating from every elder present, was suddenly thinned, as if mist scattered by sunrise. The air itself seemed to bow.
“What in the… Wait, is that a Fire Unicorn?” Bartram’s eyes blazed like twin lanterns. “And its bloodline… impossibly pure… purer than any record in our scrolls!”
Paxton’s lion-gold gaze flicked toward the creature. A rare, unreadable glimmer crossed his eyes—half caution, half awe—before his expression returned to its granite calm.
“My business here is simple,” Jared said, his voice a clear river cutting through the tense hall. “First, to settle an old score with the Infinite Soul Demon Sect. Second, to rest here and gather information. If your sect objects, I will leave.”
He spoke without heat, without plea, like someone reciting an errand list rather than staking his life amid predators.
That effortless detachment left several elders blinking, their planned objections momentarily stranded on their tongues.
Arden let out a cold snort. “Smooth words, boy! For all we know you…”
“Enough…” Paxton’s single word rolled through the chamber like muted thunder. He rose, towering, every syllable edged with command that allowed no echo of dissent.
For a heartbeat, he locked eyes with Jared, as though finalizing an internal verdict.
“Gavin Stone and Yvette Shadowstep confirm you rescued them,” he said at last. “We, the Myriad Beast Sect, acknowledge that debt. As for the strength you claim, words are wind. We only revere the power we have witnessed…”
“Three days from now, our core disciple advancement trial begins. Among the trials lies the Beast-Soul Array challenge. Break, alone, the Threefold Beast-Soul Array conjured by three Fourth-Rank Heavenly Immortal disciples, and your truth will stand…”
“Do that, and you shall be our honored guest. Ask any question, so long as it is not a core secret, we will answer. But if you fail…” Paxton let the silence finish his sentence far more sharply than words could. Arden’s lips curved into an icy smile.
That array, formed by three perfectly synchronized Level Four Heavenly Immortal disciples, could imprison, even kill, an average Fifth-Rank. He refused to believe a Level Seven Human Immortal brat could so much as dent it.
Bartram narrowed his ursine eyes, the wheels of quiet calculation turning behind them.
“Agreed.” Jared met Paxton’s stare without a blink.
