Beside the name, several warped sigils twisted like silent cautions. The handwriting inside the journals was hurried and bleak, lists of demonic aura levels and the roaming of corrupted beasts.
One page noted that ancient spirits lingered at the bottom and excelled at clouding the mind, and Jared’s brow tightened.
Flaxseed could not sit still. “When do we leave?”
Jared rolled the map into a tube. “Three days. We need supplies.”
Lunaria agreed at once, arranged rooms, and posted two demon cultivators as attendants, or guards.
Back in his quarters, Flaxseed locked the door and pored over the journals again and again, desperate for any trace of his family’s past.
Jared stood by the window, watching the Nine Serpent Mountain’s outline smolder beneath drifting demonic aura while his divine consciousness fanned outward, cataloging every threat that hemmed them in.
The palace ran far deeper than it appeared. The latent power Jared sensed there belonged to hunters, not hosts.
If Lunaria sent them into the abyss, it was likely for more than treasure. Perhaps meant to use them as bait, to gauge the true terror sleeping below. Yet Flaxseed needed answers, and Jared himself felt the pull of that so-called opportunity Lunaria mentioned.
***
Three dawns later, Jared and Flaxseed met Lunaria outside the palace gates. She still wore violet robes. Ten disciplined demon cultivators stood behind her, each carrying a black pack.
Lunaria gestured, and the cultivators handed over the bundles.
“These supplies and pills are not the finest, but they will hold off the abyss’ corrosive aura. The entrance is at the center of the mountain. I will have my men bring you there.”
Jared opened one pack. Inside lay two jade pendants etched with cleansing runes and a vial of dark-green pills that smelled of fresh herbs instead of sulfur. He handed a badge to Flaxseed but slipped the pills away; his Focus Technique could drink in demonic aura without their help.
Guided by two cultivators, they moved through the outer forest of the mountain.
With every step, the air thickened, trees twisted into blackened shapes, and bleached bones, big as oxen, glimmered among the roots.
At last, their guide pointed ahead. “That ravine is the entrance…”
Gray-black miasma boiled in the chasm, and the echoes of howls drifted up like nightmares clawing for daylight.
Standing at the brink, Flaxseed shuddered. From his coat, drew a chipped jade pendant; it glowed with thin white light that answered something in the depths below.
Flaxseed’s voice shook. “This is an heirloom of our clan. It has never stirred until now.”
Jared studied the carving, which matched the sigils on the map.
“Your forebear was indeed here,” said. “That piece of jade could unlock the first line of restrictions.”
Consulting the map once more, Jared pointed to a narrow ledge on the ravine’s left flank. “We descend there. According to the map, a stone stair waits beneath the poison fog.”
Flaxseed gripped the pendant, drew a steady breath, and smiled. “Jared, I will scout ahead!”
Jared laid a steady hand on Flaxseed’s shoulder.
“Stay close,” murmured as his spiritual energy flared, weaving a pale gold shield around them.
They sprang into the gorge, demonic aura closing over them like rotting mud, its stench clawing at their ears and noses. Without the shield, they would have been dizzy in a heartbeat.
The jade pendant in Flaxseed’s grip blazed brighter with every heartbeat. Ahead, the toxic mist peeled apart of its own accord, revealing a passage so narrow only one person could slip through at a time.
