“Lindsay! So you were hiding here after all!” Ignatius thundered. “And you two outsiders—how dare you trespass upon Earthfire Pavilion’s forbidden ground?!”
Elliot stepped forward, thrusting an accusatory finger at Jared. “Master Flameheart, I witnessed everything with my own eyes! Jared Chance and this demon slipped into the rear mountains under cover of darkness! They dismantled the arrays using secret techniques, intending to steal Earthfire Pavilion’s core secrets!”
“Thankfully, I reported it immediately. Had I not, the consequences would have been unimaginable! Furthermore, I strongly suspect these two are spies from the Malevolent Path Hall, sent to gather intelligence and prepare for an ambush!”
Lindsay trembled from head to toe, her fingers clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Lies! I was the one who brought them in! Jared was gravely injured and needed a secluded place to recover, so I—”
“Lindsay, stop making excuses for them!” Elliot snapped, his voice cracking across the cavern like a whip.
He stepped forward, tall and indignant, fiery eyes blazing with righteous fury. Raising his voice so every disciple surrounding the stone plaza could hear, he declared, “I know you’re kind-hearted, Lindsay. You mean well—but Jared Chance has deceived you!”
“Think about it! Why would a stranger persuade you to risk violating Earthfire Pavilion’s sacred laws and smuggle him into the forbidden ground? Clearly, he has bewitched you with some form of black magic!”
“I…” The word lodged in Lindsay’s throat, too fragile to become a sentence. Her lips parted, soundless. She turned her face away, lashes trembling.
I can’t say it’s because I’ve already given him my heart…
Ignatius’ expression darkened like smoldering coals. His gaze slid toward Jared as though he were already a corpse. “Jared Chance, do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Jared lifted his head, calm as dawn over still waters. “Master Flameheart, it is true that I trespassed. Princess Lindsay’s kindness made that possible, and I owe her a debt I can never repay. But to accuse me of being a spy for the Malevolent Path Hall?”
He turned slightly toward Elliot, a cold smile curling at his lips. “Perhaps you should first ask Mr. Elliot who he contacted with a message talisman three nights ago. The residual aura on that talisman matches exactly the aura of the Malevolent Path Hall cultivators we encountered.”
A hush fell over the assembly. Disciples and elders alike froze, breaths caught in their throats.
Elliot’s face drained of color—then flushed crimson. “How dare you spread such lies! When have I ever used a message talisman?! Master Flameheart, this man is sowing discord. Do not believe him!”
“Is that so?” Jared replied coolly. “Then explain why the third button inside your left sleeve carries traces of nether aura unique to a Spirit-Wraith Voice Talisman—a signature tool of the Malevolent Path Hall.”
Instinctively, Elliot’s eyes flicked to his sleeve. Panic flashed—then vanished beneath forced composure.
He straightened, laughing stiffly. “Absurd! I only changed into these robes today. What nether aura could possibly be there? If Master Flameheart doubts me, I welcome the elders to inspect my clothing!”
An elder stepped forward, spiritual sense sweeping through the fabric. Frowning, he said, “Master Flameheart… I detect no nether aura.”
Relief washed over Elliot’s face. He shot Jared a triumphant glance. “Well? Do you have anything else to say?”
To his surprise, Jared remained unruffled. “Oh? Then perhaps I remembered incorrectly. But Master Flameheart—would you mind checking what lies beneath the third floor tile under Mr. Elliot’s bed?”
Elliot went rigid. His smile shattered like glass.
Beneath that tile lay the second message talisman he used to contact the Malevolent Path Hall—and a porcelain vial of Blood-Fiend Pills, payment from Bennett.
“H-How could you know that?!” Elliot blurted before he could stop himself.
He swallowed hard, scrambling. “I—I mean, there’s nothing under my bed! This is slander!”
The damage was already done.
Ignatius needed no further proof. The faint twitch at the corner of Elliot’s eye spoke volumes.
“Search it,” Ignatius ordered, his voice colder than falling ash.
Two elders bowed and hurried away. Elliot tried to move, but a single glance from Ignatius nailed him in place. Cold sweat soaked through his robes.
Silence thickened, heavy as storm clouds pressing low. Lindsay’s gaze darted between Jared’s composed expression and Elliot’s ashen face. Realization dawned in her widening eyes.
Less than fifteen minutes later, the elders returned. One held a pitch-black message talisman that devoured the torchlight. The other carried a slender jade vial stained a deep, ominous crimson.
“Master Flameheart,” the elder reported solemnly, “we found these beneath Elliot’s bed. The talisman is saturated with nether aura exclusive to the Malevolent Path Hall. The vial contains Blood-Fiend Pills—refined from living blood essence. Pure evil.”
A thunderous blast shook the cavern, rattling stalactites from the ceiling.
Ignatius erupted in flames, a furnace-born aura that made the earth quake and stone sweat molten tears.
“Elliot Ember!” Ignatius roared, eyes blazing brighter than the inferno around him. “Do you have anything left to say?!”
Elliot’s legs gave out. He collapsed onto the cold stone floor, face drained of all color. “M-Master Flameheart… I—I was forced! The Malevolent Path Hall captured my parents and threatened to kill them unless I obeyed! I had no choice! Please—have mercy!”
“Your parents?” Ignatius’ voice dropped to an icy whisper. “They died twenty years ago in a cultivation mishap—consumed by their own unstable flames. Do not insult me with lies.”
A violent tremor tore through Elliot. His deception lay in ruins. Despair flickered—then ignited into madness.
“Yes! Yes!” he screamed, jerking upright. “I serve the Malevolent Path Hall! So what?! Earthfire Pavilion is nothing but a minor force! The Malevolent Path Hall rules all of level eleven! Ignatius Flameheart—do you think you can kill me?!”
Without warning, he plunged a trembling hand into his robes, yanked out a blood-red device, and crushed it.
The shattered charm shrieked like a dying comet.
A geyser of crimson mist erupted, twisting into a pillar that punched straight through the cavern roof. Stone shattered, molten sparks sprayed upward, and the beam carved a tunnel into the cloud-choked sky.
One elder paled. “This is bad! He’s calling in Malevolent Path Hall reinforcements!” Fury flashed in Ignatius’ eyes. He lunged, palm blazing. “Die, you abomination!”
The strike carried the full wrath of a Top-Level Heavenly Immortal Realm, Ninth Layer cultivator—terrifying beyond words.
A colossal hand of scarlet flame filled the cavern, blotting out all light. Madness gleamed in Elliot’s eyes as he raised a blood-red shield. “Lord Vayne—save me!”
A rasping chuckle oozed from the crimson pillar.
“Hahaha… Ignatius Flameheart, did you ask my permission before striking one of my people?”
Within the beam, a figure condensed—Malcolm Vayne, formed entirely of swirling blood.
Even as a mere projection, his aura pressed down like a mountain of blades. A massive blood-stained hand burst forth and slammed head-on into Ignatius’ flaming palm.
