The gems rolled through the dust, their meager spiritual glow already fading, utterly useless to Jared at his current realm. The insulting reward scorched Gavin and Yvette with shame; their cheeks burned crimson, eyes fixed on their own boots.
Jared studied the scattered gems, then lifted his gaze to the elder perched above him. His eyes remained level, tranquil; the storms of the Soul Devourer’s torture and the crucible of Level Ten had long since forged his composure.
“Keep your gratitude. I carry an old blood feud with the Infinite Soul Demon Sect. Saving these two was merely on the way…”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit.
The small Fire Unicorn loosed a low, warning growl at Garrick, then trotted after its master.
“Sir!” Gavin and Yvette reached out, desperate to call him back. A single glacial glare from Garrick nailed them silent.
Garrick snorted. “Presumptuous whelp! A Level Seven Human Immortal talking about vendettas with the Infinite Soul Demon Sect? He has probably never even seen one of their outer disciples. Let him go! He would only drag us down!”
Jared left the stone hall, walking past beast cultivators whose eyes flickered with curiosity, pity, and the same thin contempt he had just endured. He had never planned to linger; Garrick’s disdain merely hastened his departure.
The vast Level Ten would offer other refuges, and better information.
Less than an hour after he vanished beyond Rockhold Gorge’s illusion array, his figure dissolved into the surrounding forest.
***
Night fell softly. Moonlight draped the gorge in silver gauze, lanterns flickering like scattered fireflies, peace so perfect it felt painted on.
Inside, Garrick meditated, Gavin and Yvette bound their wounds, and most disciples retired to their quarters.
Suddenly, a deep, metallic hum reverberated through the valley as the illusion array strained to breaking.
With a sound like shattering glass, the array exploded, shards of shimmering light raining down.
Pillars of oily black miasma erupted from the surrounding cliffs, billowing upward until they smothered the night sky. A freezing, malevolent pressure crashed over Rockhold Gorge like a tidal wave, invading every chamber, every lung, every frightened heart.
“Enemy raid! Infinite Soul Demon Sect!”
The night shattered beneath the panicked cry ringing across Rockhold Gorge.
An alarm followed, its shrill clangor slicing the valley’s hush like a whetted blade.
Garrick’s eyes snapped open. Silver pupils blazed. In one heartbeat, he flashed from his chamber to the moonlit plaza.
At the gorge mouth, he saw them: a tide of black-robed marauders. Two figures led the swarm, their auras equal to his own. Level Five Heavenly Immortal Realm!
One hefted a bleached Mourning Bone Staff. The other guided three Green-Flame Skulls that whirled round his shoulders like sickly comets.
Behind them, more than twenty Level Four and Level Five elites, and a mass of fresh disciples, surged forward—black surf rolling unstoppably toward the gorge.
“Form the array! Hold the line!” Garrick’s beard whipped wild as he barked the order, though cold dread pooled inside his chest.
Two experts of his level and an army this vast—clearly a calculated strike meant to seize everything, no matter the cost. Yet Rockhold Gorge’s cultivators, hardened by years of skirmishes, rallied without hesitation, locking into their combat formation.
Bestial war-cries rose—tiger roar, eagle shriek, wolf howl—colliding head-on with the invaders’ eerie miasma.
In a single breath, the battlefield ignited. Light flashed, steel rang, creatures bellowed, spirits wailed—a symphony of slaughter scored beneath a bleeding moon. The Infinite Soul Demon Sect’s art gnawed at the soul itself. Prepared and merciless, they pressed every advantage.
The bone staff unleashed howls. Sound bypassed flesh, boring straight into consciousness fields. Weaker disciples clutched their heads, blood spilling from eyes and ears before they even fell.
