Jared owed Onneas a debt of friendship. He would not allow treachery to swallow them. Reading Jared‘s grim expression, Immortal Lord Nimbus stammered, “I-I have told you everything. Matters of the overlord of Third Hall lie far above a servant like me…”
“I know,” Jared said with a curt nod, conceding the point while his eyes hardened with decision. He lifted one hand. A tongue of internal flame unfurled, white at its heart, violet at its edges. Before Immortal Lord Nimbus could gasp, the flame folded around like a blooming flower.
A single scream knifed through the silence, then was gone. Quincy and the others watched the ashes scatter, hearts pounding with savage relief, true freedom at last.
Jared turned to Quincy. “Buddy, gather every refined celestial gem in Cardinal Realm and bring them to me. I will need them to cultivate. As for the remaining spiritual stones, halt all reckless mining. Your people still require spiritual energy to advance.”
Quincy and the others could draw only from ordinary spiritual stones, never from the richer celestial gem. Jared’s order preserved their future even as prepared for his own. Once they broke through the celestial realm and stepped into Wandering Immortal Realm in cultivation level, their bodies would finally be able to draw pure celestial energy.
“We obey, Immortal Lord…” Quincy dipped his head quickly. Moments later, herded the others across the glittering plain, sweeping every newly refined celestial gem into velvet sacks for Jared.
Jared had spared the Demonic Cultivators. He understood that erasing them would leave only humans and beast race cultivators, and those two races would surely turn their blades on each other.
Three races in balance, believed that was Cardinal Realm’s only shield against another war.
***
While Jared waited among rising mounds of glittering treasure, Flaxseed clambered up to level seven, chasing every rumor that might lead to the elusive Malevolent Path Hall.
On the mist-choked rim of that tier sprawled Blackwind City, a settlement forever wrapped in lifeless gray fog.
It felt forgotten by heaven and earth, an oppressive hush drifted along its crooked streets like dust caught in moonlight. Even the street vendors veiled themselves in heavy black robes, as though fabric alone could keep catastrophe at bay.
Their words were little more than breaths, each syllable smothered before it could wake the lurking dangers.
Flaxseed, clutching a meager handful of celestial gems pilfered from level six, crouched in the darkest corner of a battered teahouse.
His strength had returned, but here on level seven, that power amounted to almost nothing; now stood at the very bottom of the ladder. Every nerve stood at attention; his ears caught the clink of porcelain, the scrape of boots, even the sigh of the draft beneath the door.
For three full days, had waited, praying a stray whisper would mention Malevolent Path Hall. He dared not ask outright, questions in this city were invitations for knives.
Between his fingers lay a cloaking charm, thin as parchment yet thick enough, hoped, to muffle the pulse of his cultivation aura a little longer.
Bang! The thunderous slam cracked the teahouse’s stagnant hush.
The door flew inward, and Scarface, muscles knotted, a blade-shaped scar slashing down one cheek, strode inside, two black-robed cultivators sliding after like twin shadows.
Flaxseed lowered his gaze at once, fingers tightening around the charm tucked inside his sleeve.
“Keeper, your strongest wine, now!” Scarface bellowed the order and slapped an overstuffed pouch onto the nearest table. The crystalline chime of celestial gems inside rang so sharply it seemed to cleave the silence in two.
