Truth was, his early swagger had rested on a single fact, Jared stood only steps away. Yet Jared remained motionless, arms folded, watching Flaxseed’s frantic dance with an almost amused curve to his lips.
“Are you still frozen, kid? Fine. After I’m done, you can have your turn!” Flaxseed shouted, skidding through another plume of dust.
Jared’s brows knit. Talking about “taking turns” with the terrified girl made Flaxseed no better than the thugs they were facing.
The woman heard the implication too, knees pressed together, a tremor of dread racing up spine. She realized then that Flaxseed’s “rescue” might spare life yet not dignity, escape from disgrace seemed impossible.
“Stop!” Jared’s voice cracked like lightning across the wasteland. In the same breath, stepped forward, body flowing out of the wind as though had always been part of it. His eyes, cold and bright, fixed on the black-robed men, twin blades drawn without steel.
Startled, the two attackers recoiled, Jared’s composure carried the weight of someone far above their pay grade. But a heartbeat later, duty reasserted itself, and the smirks returned.
A quick probe of his aura told them was only an Earthly immortal Realm Level Five cultivator. Their earlier fear vanished in an instant, a runt at that level, they believed, could be flattened with a flick of the wrist.
The taller of the two black-clad cultivators let out a contemptuous snort. “You don’t deserve to know who we are. Walk away and mind your own business, or I will haul you off with the rest of these peasants!”
Arrogance soaked every syllable, as though Jared were no more than an insect buzzing at the man’s boots.
“Oh? So your background is supposed to impress me?” Jared asked, one eyebrow lifting in lazy contempt.
His lips curved into a thin, mocking smile. The expression carried an unmistakable note of disdain, as though found their bravado quaint.
Irate at Jared’s tone, the shorter man hissed, “Since you crave death, I shall oblige. Listen well. We are cultivators of the Sixth Hall of the Celestial Palace. Leave now, or blame yourself when we get rough.”
“The Sixth Hall?” Flaxseed’s expression changed. He had never imagined a random act of chivalry would drop the true quarry into their laps.
A flicker of surprise crossed Jared’s eyes, then vanished behind his customary calm.
I spent months scouring the realm, and now what I’m searching for strolls right up to me.
After weeks of fruitless searching, members of the Sixth Hall now stood only an arm’s length away. Silent joy flared in his chest; at last there was a thread that could lead straight to their door.
Seeing the change in their expressions, the two men in black assumed fear had taken hold and flashed smug grins.
“Well? Frightened already? Turn around and crawl while you still can. If we have to lift a finger, regret will hit you harder than any blow.”
His voice carried sharp menace, certain of an easy victory.
“Jared, these guys really are from the Sixth Hall. They might know where that hall is hidden!” Flaxseed’s warning came in an urgent whisper, eyes still wide with shock.
Jared gave a slight nod; a glint like frost-stone flashed across his eyes. He had longed for a reason to smash the Sixth Hall, and they had obligingly delivered themselves to his doorstep. He remembered the price had already paid searching for them and swore they would bleed double.
“Sixth Hall? Trash! Your lackeys are trash, and your hall master is trash all the same!”
His voice dropped to iron. A blade-sharp aura burst from and sliced through the still night air.
Pebbles skittered, and dry sand whipped into spirals around his boots. The two men froze, their smug smiles cracking like cheap porcelain.
“How dare you? That mouth of yours just signed a death warrant!” A hiss of energy coiled in the man’s palm and shot toward Jared like a venomous serpent.
