“Truly, it isn’t difficult,” Dustin continued, his tone silky as moonlight through lattice screens. “Three thousand kilometers east of Sandrock City lies an Ancient Immortal’s Abode about to surface. Our sources claim its owner was a primeval true immortal, meaning the place is likely crammed with rare techniques and treasures…”
“Whisperwind House wants a share, but we’re short on trustworthy muscle. The fact that you two journeyed all the way up from the lower heavens tells me your strength is anything but ordinary. Help us breach the estate, and I will place every lead to the Jadeheart Marrow in your hands, free of charge. Profits from the Ancient Immortal’s Abode will be divided strictly by contribution; I guarantee you’ll leave richer than you arrived.”
An Ancient Immortal’s Abode, just handed to strangers? Doubts piled in Jared’s mind like storm clouds over desert sand. Opportunities this rich seldom knock on a door without knowing the occupants.
How had this man judged our strength so quickly? Simply because we climbed from the realms below?
He met the steward’s steady gaze. “Why pick us, Mr. Rivers? Sandrock City surely isn’t lacking for seasoned fighters.”
Dustin’s sigh carried genuine weariness. “Word of the Abode has leaked. The Wildsand Gang and the Ironstone Society both have eyes on it. Whisperwind House, frankly, is weaker. Alone, we might not even sniff the leftovers. You and your companion are unfamiliar faces, ideal for slipping beneath rival notice. More importantly…” He added, glancing from Jared to the silent figure wrapped in a vermilion cloak beside him, “Your composure speaks volumes. You, Jared, veil your aura so deeply that, while you present as Heavenly Immortal Realm Level One, your eyes cut sharper than most lords I’ve met. In ruin delving, raw power is less valuable than partners who are steady, shrewd, and, above all, reliable.”
Reasonable though it sounded, Jared’s unease refused to fade. Dustin had appeared with suspicious timing, and his warmth felt more like a pre-dawn chill than sunlight.
“We’ll need time to consider,” Jared said at last, folding the doubt behind a polite nod.
“Naturally…” Dustin offered no pressure. Instead, he slipped a slender device across the table; its surface pulsed with faint runes. “It holds every detail we possess: location, defenses, rendezvous point. Three days from now, midday, Blackwind Gorge, three hundred kilometers east of the city. Whether you come or not, I’ll be there… If the two of you are interested, meet us there and merge forces. As a gesture of sincerity, I’ll offer one morsel about the Jadeheart Marrow… The Infernal Lava Abyss hides its mouth well, yet in the Blaze Region’s Crimson Flame City stands an order called Earthfire Pavilion. They have spent generations mapping ley-lines and underground flames. They may hold the key to more precise coordinates.”
Crimson Flame City. Earthfire Pavilion. Two names that glowed like fresh coals against the haze of memory. Jared etched both names into his mind the way a cartographer presses ink into parchment: slow, deliberate, unerasable.
“My thanks, Mr. Rivers…” Jared slid the device into his sleeve, the gesture neat and military. “Three days from now you’ll have our answer.”
Dustin inclined his head, escorting them to the stairwell. “I’ll await good news…”
Night wind combed through Whisperwind House as the pair stepped into the street. Vermilion—mantle flaring crimson at the edges—leaned closer. “Jared, can we trust this Rivers?”
“Hard to say…” Jared let the words settle, eyes narrowed behind the glow of passing lanterns. “The manor layout he gave us looks genuine. Earthfire Pavilion could truly possess deeper clues. Yet the timing—too smooth, too tidy—makes my skin crawl.”
Vermilion’s ember-bright gaze sharpened. “You think it’s a trap?”
“I can’t rule it out…” Steel flickered in Jared’s eyes. “But we can’t abandon the trail to the Jadeheart Marrow. In three days, we’ll scout Blackwind Gorge. If anything smells wrong, we vanish; no hesitation.”
Vermilion gave one firm nod. “Your lead, I follow.”
Preparation and Peril
Back at the inn, Jared unfolded the device beneath lamplight and sank into study without a word. Coordinates, ward schematics, danger notations, and even a scratched map spilled across his mind like sparks racing through tinder. The detail felt solid, not something cobbled together over ale and rumor.
Vermilion exhaled, doubt thinning. “Maybe we really are being paranoid…”
Jared offered no reply, only sealed each diagram inside memory’s vault. Whether snare or salvation, they would be ready for the worst. He drew out piles of components and began lacing the room with sigils: concealment webs, alarm glyphs, and even the skeleton of a quick-cast portal. Layer upon layer, the arrays intertwined—fragile in power, yet priceless when a heartbeat decided life or death.
Vermilion busied himself beside the window, polishing artifacts, uncorking elixirs, and tuning every fragment of strength. At Jared’s boots, the small fire unicorn curled, golden flames pulsing over its scales in silent vigilance. Preparations devoured the hours the way sand drinks ink.
Elsewhere, far beneath Sandrock City, Dustin Rivers knelt inside a lamp-lit vault, face lowered before a black-cloaked elder.
“Elder Quill, the fish has taken the bait,” Dustin reported, voice thin with reverence. “They accepted the device. In three days, they’ll head to Blackwind Gorge.”
The elder, none other than Elder Matty Quill—one of the Malevolent Path Hall’s seventy-two shadow lords—seemed an unremarkable, withered man. But when green light flickered inside his triangular pupils, even the torches shuddered, and the vault grew several degrees colder.
Matty’s voice slithered through the candlelit chamber, rough as gravel yet laden with satisfaction. “Well done. And Blackwind Gorge? Are every last detail and trap in place?”
Dustin straightened, pride flickering behind his eyes. “Everything is set… The Blood-Forging Soul Array is fully erected. Once they step into the heart of the gorge, the formation will snap shut and butcher any cultivator below level eight of the Heavenly Immortal Realm… In addition, the three Ghostshade envoys are already hidden and prepared to strike on my signal.”
The Ghostshade envoys—elite assassins honed within the Malevolent Path Hall—always moved in threes, their synchronized attacks lethal to anyone beneath level seven of the Heavenly Immortal Realm.
Matty shook his head, the gesture slow and venomous. “Not enough… The Master warned me; the target is anything but ordinary. We must erase him in a single thunderclap and leave him no chance to rise. Tell the three envoys to unleash the Netherworld Triple-Slaughter Array at once. He is to die instantly.”
Hearing that, Dustin’s heart lurched. He knew the Netherworld Triple-Slaughter Array demanded fresh blood as fuel, its hatred-laden blades able to threaten even a top Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Nine cultivator. And now, they planned to expend that horror on a mere level one amateur!
