Flaxseed had Just taken a half-step forward, ready to argue, when Jared raised a hand and silently stopped him.
Jared raised his gaze to the mountain gate that pierced the clouds, the corner of his mouth curling into a blade-thin smile.
“Tell whoever runs your Destiny Sect to come out,” said, voice ice-cold. “I’m here to take his head.”
The moment those words landed, the air all around them seemed to harden, congealing into something heavy and suffocating.
The two disciples guarding the gate froze for a heartbeat, and then burst into uproarious laughter.
“Hahaha! Where did this lunatic crawl out from? Daring to spout nonsense in front of the Destiny Sect’s gate!”
“Your cultivation is only at the Wandering Immortal Realm Level Five at best. Did a mule kick your brain? You think you can cause trouble here?”
Impatient, one of the disciples flicked his wrist. A palm-sized azure sword appeared, its tip hovering a hair’s breadth from Jared’s brow.
“Get lost, or don’t blame us for showing you exactly how ruthless Destiny Sect’s sword technique can be!”
Jared could not even be bothered to lift his eyes. He merely allowed the faintest ripple of aura to pulse from his body.
A low hum rolled through the courtyard. An invisible pressure crashed onto Inquiry Terrace and smothered it in an instant.
The two Wandering Immortal Realm Level Six disciples felt as though a mountain had slammed onto their shoulders.
With two muffled thuds, they dropped to their knees, every bone in their bodies creaked under the strain, blood spewed from their lips, and the little azure sword clanged to the flagstones and crumbled to dust
“W-Who… Who are you?” one of the disciples asked, face contorted in terror.
Jared did not answer. He merely glanced at the speaker, and the disciple’s body detonated like rotten wood, a red rain splattering over his companion.
The surviving disciple went slack with horror, slamming his forehead against the stone floor over and over. “S-Sir, spare me! Please spare me!”
Jared strode past without the slightest hesitation.
“Noisy,” said, the single word colder than winter steel.
Jared and the others crossed the threshold. Patrol disciples along the path gasped in alarm, and someone immediately struck the bronze warning bell.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sonorous peal reverberated through the mountain, rousing the elders who had been immersed in seclusion.
Moments later, five streaks of light shot from different summits of Destiny Peak and came to the ground before Jared.
At their head stood an old man with snow-white hair yet a child-smooth face. He wore an apricot-yellow robe, and at his belt hung a jade token carved with the words “Destiny Sect Elder”.
This was Drake, a Wandering Immortal Realm Level Eight cultivator who oversaw punishment within the sect.
Drake’s gaze was sharp as lightning. It swept over Jared’s party and finally locked onto Jared himself. His brows drew together. “Who might you be, sir? Why trespass into our sect and injure our disciples?”
He could sense that Jared’s strength was far from what a mere Wandering Immortal Realm Level Five cultivator should possess. Even so, Drake remained unworried.
The Destiny Sect was a big sect, so Level Six and Seven Wandering Immortals were as common as autumn leaves. However strong Jared might be In truth, would hardly find easy footing here.
“I’m here to wipe out your sect…”
Jared’s statement was clipped, spoken as casually as if were commenting on the weather.
“Wipe us out?” A middle-aged elder behind Drake let out a scornful chuckle. “Boy, do you even hear yourself? The Destiny Sect has stood for ten thousand years. Three Earthly Immortals have already ascended to the Fourth Heaven from our halls. You, a child, think to act wantonly here?!”
“The Destiny Sect has no grievance with you,” Drake pressed, baffled. “Why would you slaughter us to the last man?”
Another elder’s voice turned icy. “Drake, why waste words on him? Seize first!”
He flung his wide sleeve, and eighteen crimson flags flew Skyward. In a blink they formed the Grand Sky-Obscuring Formation; red mist billowed, and a chorus of shrill, soul-piercing screams erupted from within.
“Hmph! Petty tricks…” Jared snorted. He did not even bother summoning the Dragonslayer Sword. He simply flicked a finger.
A golden ray burst forth, slicing through the red fog like a hot knife through butter and slamming into the eighteen flags with a deafening boom.
In the blink of an eye, the flags shattered, the great formation collapsed with a roar, and the elder who had set it coughed blood, stumbling back several paces.
