“G-Ghost Clan…” the wolf general repeated under his breath, suspicion flickering in the pause that followed. A guarded light crept into his eye.
“Mr. Chance, the beast race and the Ghost Clan share old wounds. They vanished underground for three millennia and appear now without warning; prudence is necessary.”
Morvane’s snort split the air. “If not for Mr. Chance’s plea, do you think we longed for the surface?”
The temperature seemed to drop, muscles tightened on hilts, and for a beat, the promise of violence hovered, sharp enough to taste. Jared raised a hand, halting both sides. “With a greater enemy before us, yesterday’s grudges must rest. The Ghost Clan has already agreed to fight beside me against the celestials.”
He locked eyes with the wolf general. “Do you not crave vengeance for Alpha Bear and Elder Hartcrest? Can the scattered beast survivors defeat the celestials alone?”
The wolf general swallowed, then bowed. “Please wait a moment, Mr. Chance. I will inform Old Madam Nightfox!”
He pivoted into the mist. The two remaining officers stayed, their scrutiny boring into the Nether City Guards. Not long after, the wolf general returned, guiding an aged figure whose measured steps radiated quiet authority. The old woman leaned on a silvered cane, three snowy fox tails sweeping behind her. Her aura rested solidly at High Immortal Realm Level Five.
“This old one, Madam Nightfox, greets Mr. Chance,” she said, bowing with graceful precision. Her courtesy touched the Ghost warriors as well. “Friends from the Ghost Clan, forgive us for such a scant welcome…”
The words were polite, but the vigilance shining in her pupils was anything but.
Jared clasped his fists in return. “You are too kind, Madam. I come to unite with the remaining beastfolk and discuss driving out the celestials.”
Madam Nightfox folded her hands over the cane. “You slew three Beast Kings, rescued our maidens, and avenged Alpha Bear. For that, every beast is grateful. Yet…” She paused, her voice cooling. “We still recall the Ghost Clan’s slaughter when they reached level thirteen.”
Morvane’s temper flared. “Our people fled there under pursuit, not for plunder. Your beast race—”
“Enough…” Jared’s single word cracked like a whip, cutting the accusation short. The syllable carried a pulse of chaotic force; eardrums rang and several soldiers winced.
Jared surveyed both sides. “Right or wrong no longer matters. The celestials ravage unchecked, the beast race is down to a few hundred, and the Ghost Clan hides below. Keep fighting each other and we all die.” His sword hand tightened. “I swear to eradicate the celestials and avenge Alpha Bear, Elder Hartcrest, and every fallen beast. The Ghost Clan stands with me. Will you?”
Madam Nightfox met his gaze, then studied the hundred Nether City Guards whose cold aura seeped through the fog. At last, she exhaled. “Mr. Chance is right… With such an enemy, old grudges help no one.” She bowed to the Ghost warriors. “Friends of the Ghost Clan, bygones stay buried. From today, the beast race stands with you against the celestials.”
Morvane’s anger cooled, and he mirrored the bow. “And the Ghost Clan pledges the same… Your battles are our battles!”
Relief loosened in Jared’s chest. “Good. As one family, share with me the celestials’ deployments across Epea.”
Madam Nightfox turned and led the group deeper into the hidden realm. A pocket paradise opened beyond a rock arch, small yet ample for the three hundred-odd survivors to live unseen. At Jared’s arrival, beastfolk hurried over, hope sparking behind exhausted faces.
“Mr. Chance has returned!” a young stag-horned warrior cried.
“We’re saved!” another voice followed, raw with emotion.
“Please, avenge Alpha Bear!” a third shouted, grief and fury braided together.
Jared took in their scarred hides and blazing eyes, and a silent vow hardened: the celestials would fall.
Soon they gathered in the council hall at the realm’s heart, where Madam Nightfox unfurled a fresh sand-table map. She spoke gravely. “Since Mr. Chance vanished, the celestials have intensified their purge of the Myriad Monster Mountain Range.”
Her finger tapped the model fortress. “Beast-Quelling Venerable sits in the Beast-Quelling Hall Headquarters, flanked by the traitors King Silverserpent and King Ironhawk, each commanding thirty thousand troops. In addition, the Central Domain’s grand venerable dispatched three High Immortal Realm Level Seven celestial venerables to guard Epea’s east, west, and north, while the south remains under Beast-Quelling Venerable. Altogether, the celestials field about 150,000 soldiers, with more than thirty fighters above High Immortal Realm Level Six.”
Madam Nightfox straightened over the sand table. Lamplight caught the deep crease between her brows before she spoke. “We have only 327 beastfolk left,” she said softly. “High Immortal Realm Level Five or higher, a mere five. Add Mr. Chance and our Ghost Clan friends, and we still barely clear one hundred.”
A hush rolled across the council hall. Numbers alone drew a cold line between hope and despair, and every stare settled on that widening gulf.
Jared’s gaze, however, glimmered with quiet certainty. “Numbers aren’t the issue,” he answered. “Cut off the head, and the Celestial Army falls apart.” He tapped the tiny model of the Beast-Quelling Hall Headquarters. “We start here. Remove the Beast-Quelling Venerable and the two Beast Kings, and their entire command in Epea collapses.”
“Mr. Chance, can you truly handle the Beast-Quelling Venerable?” Madam Nightfox’s voice stayed low, yet the weight behind it did not waver. “His strength is unfathomable. The hall itself is layered in wards—easy to defend, hard to breach.”
Jared allowed a small smile. “Earlier, I would’ve lacked absolute confidence. Now…”
He loosened the restraint on his aura. An ancient, chaotic breath seeped out, as though the dawn of the first morning were stirring again. Every figure in the chamber felt an invisible mass settle on their chest and spine, as if the person before them had been replaced by the sweeping vault of stars.
