They were still talking when Flaxseed lurched in, his head bandaged, yet his grin entirely unscathed. “Jared! I’m alive! That geezer’s holy light looked fierce, but it’s got nothing on your Dragonslayer Sword!”
“Easy, mind the wound,” Jared said, helpless and amused in equal measure. Flaxseed never did recall pain for long. “Forget the wound. Look what I brought!” He produced a black clay jar from his robe.
“This is a balm made from the inner core of an Amethyst Toad in Venom Valley. It’s specifically used for injuries. Apply it, you will be moving tomorrow!”
Jared’s eye twitched at the bubbling green paste. “Are you sure that isn’t poison?”
“You doubt me?” Stung, Flaxseed smeared a green paste onto a fist-sized pebble. The stone hissed, green smoke curling upward.
“See? It even eats rock. Perfect for cleaning a wound!”
Seeing this, Jared was speechless. A calm voice floated in from outside the courtyard. “Mr. Chance, healing cannot be rushed.”
Ararat stepped through the moonlit gate, carrying a jade box that glimmered like frost. “This is the Focus Agate. It can cure the meridian.”
When the lid parted, cool fragrance swept the yard. Inside, a milky half-liquid swirled, threads of spiritual energy coiling above it like morning fog.
Jared’s pupils tightened. A treasure like this was rare in level five. He rose quickly. “Such a gift is too much for me.”
Ararat pressed the box into his hands. “You saved my life, Mr. Chance. Trinkets cannot repay that.”
His tone sharpened. “The Sacred Sword Manor is ready to take action. You must regain your strength. Should trouble rise, speak my name toward the city lord’s mansion and I will come.”
With that, became a streak of white light, vanishing into the night. His departing words drifted back like an echo in a canyon. “Rest easy. The Swordmaster City is safe for now.”
Jared stared at the slow-circling agate essence, heart awash with emotions too tangled to name.
***
For the next three days, the Sword Sect compound lay under an unnatural hush. Not a single leaf dared rustle, as though the very air were holding its breath.
Jared spent every waking moment wrapped in meditation and medicine. The Focus Agate proved miraculous. Damaged meridians stitched themselves together before his eyes while Ararat’s lingering sword energy tamed the dragon essence and marked aura, settling into a fragile truce.
Flaxseed and Corin had a slow recovery.
Santino’s holy light burned Corin, while Flaxseed was rebuked due to the excessive use of charms.
Lyra and other Sword Sect disciples guarded the place. Cultivators were lingering outside the sect with malicious intent.
“Jared, there are more unfamiliar faces sneaking around the gate again today,” Lyra warned.
Holding a steaming bowl of dark broth, Lyra stepped into the room, worry clouding bright features. “Rumor has it that the Sword Sect has offended the Sacred Sword Manor. They want to chase us out of Swordmaster City.”
Jared accepted the bowl and emptied it in one grim swallow, the bitter tang crawling across his tongue. “Let them talk. Mouths belong to other people. Their words can’t harm us.”
Setting the bowl aside, noticed the fading bruise circling wrist and, unable to hide his concern, asked, “How did this happen?”
Lyra pulled sleeve over the bruise and shook head. “While you and Master Morden were down, challengers kept coming. Someone had to confront them, so I did.”
Jared’s expression softened.
“You shouldn’t have had to,” murmured. His fingertips brushed the bruised skin. A cool stream of spiritual energy slipped into flesh, and the discoloration vanished like ink in water. Color rose in Lyra’s cheeks, yet met his gaze without flinching.
“Standing beside you is never a burden,” said. The nights of shared peril had already sewn heart irrevocably to this seemingly ordinary young man. Their quiet moment shattered when angry shouts burst from the courtyard.
