A scouting elder, one of the few still on his feet, bowed low. “Our threads converge on the Infinite Soul Demon Sect, Master. They dangled obscene profits, threw in demonic pills and cursed weapons, and seduced Garth. The masked fighters who stormed our gates were their embedded agents.”
“The Infinite Soul Demon Sect, Sheldon Soulsby!” Paxton’s fist locked tight. Knuckles split, leaking blood that dripped to the moss below. “Until that debt is paid,” he growled, “I, Paxton, will not rest!”
A dazed elder whispered, “Sir, what do we do now?” The question floated over the shattered clan like smoke. Without their stronghold, they were seeds torn from soil, unsure where—or whether—to land.
Paxton inhaled once, twice, forcing the tremor out of his lungs. “Listen! The Myriad Beast Sect is battered, not buried. As long as hearts beat, we rebuild!”
His gaze sharpened. “That begins with finding Mr. Chance!”
Gavin and Yvette straightened, sparks returning to eyes dulled by grief.
“Find him, yes! Mr. Chance is way smarter and stronger than we are. With him, we’ll take back what is ours!”
Paxton nodded. “Last we knew, he headed for the Mystic Sky Sword Sect. We make contact, fast.”
He faced his two most trusted disciples. “Gavin, Yvette, you each lead a swift unit. Gavin, swing toward the Sword Sect. Yvette, shadow our ruined grounds for clues. Safety first. If you spot Mr. Chance, or anything you cannot tame, pull back immediately. No heroic deaths.”
“Understood, sir!” the pair replied, conviction ringing where despair had lingered moments earlier.
Paxton turned to the survivors. “The rest of you, build a temporary camp here. Mend bones, refine qi, gather every stray disciple you can find. Keep eyes on the Melded Beastkin and the Infinite Soul Demon fiends. The Myriad Beast Mountains are our hunting ground. As long as we breathe beneath these peaks, opportunity lives.”
***
Meanwhile, at the Myriad Beast Sect’s ruined main grounds, what had once been sacred stone now lay beneath the boots of a new master.
Garth Thornscale lounged on the Sect Master’s throne—Paxton’s throne—his hulking frame nearly splitting the carved armrests. Ill-fitting or not, he bared a mouthful of jagged teeth in a smile that stank of conquest.
The grand audience chamber, once a place of solemn oaths, now throbbed with raw ambition. Below the platform, chiefs of the Melded Beastkin tribes pressed shoulder to shoulder with fair-weather defectors and several cloaked envoys of the Infinite Soul Demon Sect.
“Allow me to congratulate you, Chief Garth—no, I should say Sect Master Garth—on seizing the reins of the entire Myriad Beast Sect!” one of the Demon Sect envoys offered the praise with a fake grin that never reached his predatory eyes.
Garth threw back his head and laughed, the boom of it rattling every pillar. “All thanks to your sect’s timely help. From this day forward, the Myriad Beast Sect is reborn as the Melded Beastkin Sacred Sect, and I, Garth Thornscale, am its first Lord!”
He swept a clawed hand toward the courtyard. “My first decree: clean the battlefield. Hang every defiant corpse outside the mountain gate. Those who kneel live! Those who resist die. No exceptions!”
“At once, sir!” several beast chiefs roared in unison, voices trembling with long-suppressed glee.
Years of humiliation fermented into savage elation; cruel methods felt like justice to the tribe that had lived too long in another’s shadow.
Garth’s eyes narrowed. “Hunt Paxton and the other remnants. I want their ashes scattered before they can stir anew.”
“Rest easy, sir,” the Demon Sect envoy replied, bowing theatrically.
“Our order will send more hands to aid the search, once we receive the payment you mentioned…” his smile sharpened like a blade waiting for flesh.
Garth dismissed the concern with a broad sweep of his arm. “My word is iron. From this moment, the Melded Beastkin Sacred Sect and the Infinite Soul Demon Sect stand as allies. The three spirit stone veins on the mountain’s west ridge are yours to mine, and my disciples will answer your summons when needed.”
“Great! I knew you were reliable!” the envoy replied, satisfaction glittering behind half-lidded eyes.
The Infinite Soul Demon Sect’s hidden scheme had outdone itself. They had not razed the sect outright; they had fractured it and installed a pliant regime—a victory that yielded spoils while crippling a rival.
News of the sudden coup sprouted wings and raced through Level Ten. No faction had foreseen the fall of the mighty Myriad Beast Sect, much less that its throne would be claimed by the tribe it had long kept at its margins.
Far away, Jared lounged in steaming spirit water at the Mystic Sky Sword Sect, enjoying Linden’s lavish hospitality, blissfully unaware of the Myriad Beast Sect’s predicament and the introduction of a new leader.
