The two attendants blanched and backed away, their faces drained of color. They knew Clara’s temper. She was brilliant, fiery, and freshly returned from years of tempering outside. She had yet to learn how terrifying this quiet guest could be.
Jared’s patience flickered in his eyes, a brief spark of annoyance breaking through the calm surface. He had never meant to spar with a young girl, yet her relentless challenge stoked a quiet flame within him. As tension stretched taut as a drawn bow, a deep, commanding shout split the air beyond the courtyard wall.
“Clara, stand down!” Before the echo faded, Linden strode into the courtyard, robes billowing, gaze sharp and unyielding.
“Mr. Chance, please forgive my daughter… She has roamed the wilds ten years beside her mentor and has only just returned. She has a bad temper. I beg your indulgence for any offense she caused.”
Clara stamped her foot, cheeks burning. “Dad, why are you so polite to this loser… I mean this guy! He’s only a Level Seven Human Immortal. What gives him the right…”
“Enough!” Linden’s single word cracked like a blade of wind. “Mr. Chance is my honored guest and savior of the Mystic Sky Sword Sect! Apologize! Now!”
“Savior?” Clara blinked, confusion smoothing her anger. Her gaze shifted from the plainly dressed stranger to her father’s stern face, unable to match a Level Seven Human Immortal with so lofty a title.
Jared waved off the tension and rose from the ripple-lined pool.
Without hurry, he draped his neatly folded azure robe over his shoulders, tying the sash with effortless grace. “You flatter me, Mr. Cloudridge. Your daughter is just straightforward and speaks her mind. Still, I wonder, what brings her home after so many years away?”
Perhaps her sudden return was no accident.
Linden sighed, beckoning his daughter closer. “To be frank, Mr. Chance, Clara has trained for ten years under the Flame-Sword Venerable inside the Blazefire Secret Realm. Even I did not expect her back so soon.”
He turned to her, voice gentler yet probing. “Tell me, Clara, what forces you home? Did something change inside the realm?”
Chastened by his seriousness, Clara smoothed her temper, shoulders squaring with resolve.
“I heard rumors that the Infinite Soul Demon Sect had clashed with our Mystic Sky Sword Sect on the Blood-Scar Plains,” she said, every word crisp.
“Fearing for your safety, I begged my master’s leave and rode day and night to return. Only on the road did I learn the battle had ended and you were unharmed. I was relieved.”
“You were thoughtful,” Linden murmured, a brief warmth softening his eyes.
The warmth faded as he asked further. “Is that all? Did any other news reach you on the way?”
Clara nodded, a new weight settling on her brow. “Yes… One more, and it is alarming.”
Her eyes flickered toward Jared before she continued. “They say the Myriad Beast Sect has suffered a disaster.”
Jared’s casual expression hardened like drawn steel. “The Myriad Beast Sect… What happened?”
The sudden edge in his tone—a blend of concern and cold blade—startled Clara. For an instant, the calm pools of his eyes blazed, and her heart skipped as though seized by winter wind.
“Details are scarce,” she admitted, steadying her voice. “Rumor claims the Infinite Soul Demon Sect sowed discord. A faction called the Melded Beastkin betrayed them from within. The fighting was brutal. The Sect Master, Paxton, escaped with a few loyal followers and vanished. The sect is said to be under that tribe’s control now.”
“What?!” The cry tore from Jared before he could master it. Power surged off him in a freezing gust, fury and chill intertwined.
Linden and Clara felt their breaths hitch, hearts drumming beneath the unseen weight. Even the luminous liquid at the pool’s rim shivered, concentric rings widening across its glassy surface.
