Jared straightened, a spark of hope igniting behind his weary eyes. This was exactly what he needed. “Lady Aurora, what exactly are the Celestials? Why are they so proud, so closed to every outsider? How vast is their strength, and what realm has their clan leader reached?”
Lady Aurora gathered her thoughts, letting the hush of the icy hall settle before she began.
“The Celestials are no single bloodline,” she said softly. “It is an ancient, sprawling alliance… They claim descent from primordial gods and demons. Their veins carry a spark of divinity, allowing them to master the laws faster than any mortal race and to live far longer. That blessing has hardened into arrogance…”
“They view every other race as common as lesser beings. Within the clan, there are many branches. I was born of the Frost Deity Branch, masters of ice. There are also the Flame, Storm, and Verdant branches, each wielding its own dominion. Together, those branches elect a single Emperor, aided by an Elder Council and the Celestial General Hall…”
“The current Emperor has ruled for more than 30,000 years. His cultivation is unfathomable; he is at least the Golden Immortal Realm…”
Hearing this, Jared’s breath caught.
What?! Golden Immortal Realm!
His field of vision tightened, the world collapsing to a single bright pinprick as his pupils shrank in a reflex born of equal parts alarm and wonder.
He reviewed the cosmic hierarchy he had only recently memorized. Above the Heavenly Immortals stood the High Immortals, and ascended beyond even them were the Earthly Immortals. Yet Earthly Immortals were themselves but stepping-stones.
Beyond that impossible summit waited the Golden Immortals, beings who could roam an entire realm at will, carve out their own order, and found a lineage that might endure for epochs. The thought alone sent a throb of pain behind his temples.
In his current state, a single High Immortal could erase him with a flicker of power. Golden Immortal—he dared not picture it, unless, perhaps, Mr. Sanders, a man he knew, chose to intervene.
Regardless, Maxwell still had to be rescued. The man was a Hall Master of the Dragon Sect, and Jared would not abandon him to whatever cage the enemy had forged.
“The Celestials’ xenophobia is two-fold,” Lady Aurora said, her voice edged with frost. “They cling to the arrogance of their bloodline, and they guard a stockpile of ancient secrets they fear the outside world might plunder…”
“To preserve the ‘purity’ of their descendants, intermarriage is forbidden, doubly so for someone of my station. The rules they impose on a Holy Maiden would make even stone flinch. What happened to Maxwell is one tragedy among countless others enacted over the last century.”
Jared wet his lips. “Then this Northern Abyss Celestial Clan… What of them?”
“My so-called Northern Abyss branch is a banner I raised after arriving on these ice plains.” Aurora’s smile held no warmth. “I gathered those who were discontent, or simply out of favor, and forged a faction of our own.”
“Officially, we remain a subsidiary, obliged to bow to the main clan. In truth, our hearts drift elsewhere, and the Clan Elders know it. Your relentless advance today has surely reached their ears already.”
A chill coiled in Jared’s gut.
So… If the main body of the Celestials turns its gaze this way, we are finished…
Aurora read the worry in his eyes and waved it aside. “Calm yourself. Their pride will keep them idle for a time; they will fault my palace long before they lift a finger themselves. And I possess more than one hidden card… Even if they send envoys, I can bargain for space.”
“What matters now,” she continued, “is that you grow stronger. Your technique is boundless, tinged with the dragon’s power, but your realm is far too low. Against a true champion of the Celestials, you would be little more than a glowing ember in a blizzard.”
“I understand…” Jared replied. “Once we secure the blood lotus, I will head for Level Eleven. I need Jadeheart Marrow, and any chance to break my current shackles.”
“Level Eleven…” Aurora’s gaze drifted to the storm-lit horizon. “It is fiercer than Level Ten, its treasures more heavily contested. But given your potential, the risk may be worth it. Northern Abyss Palace maintains several covert outposts there. Present yourself, and they will lend what aid they can.”
“And… Beyond Level Ten lies a realm so fierce that even the void itself bites,” Lady Aurora said, fingers drumming the armrest as though playing out silent calculations. “Resources there are scarce, and every scrap is fought over with blood. Yet your strength, Jared, and the promise coiled inside you like a waking dragon, give you a fair chance to survive, and perhaps to flourish, should you choose to step through that storm…”
“My Northern Abyss Palace keeps a handful of covert outposts up there. Present this emblem, and you will find doors unlatched, information shared, and a measure of aid extended.”
With a flick of her snow-pale wrist, Aurora produced a rhombic sigil the color of glacial dawn. The token hovered above her palm for an instant, chilling the air, before she set it gently into Jared’s hands.
“That is the Northern Abyssal Token; carry it, and my outposts will answer.”
The metal bit cold, almost painfully so, as Jared closed his fingers around it. An archaic ‘Abyss’ rune glimmered on the face; the reverse bloomed with interlocking snowflake sigils that seemed to breathe frost.
Jared bowed, stowing the emblem as though it were a live ember. “My deepest thanks, Lady Aurora…”
He knew Aurora’s might could have carried him into Level Eleven, even Level Twelve, with ease. That she remained in this frozen palace could only be the decree of the Celestials themselves, chaining her brilliance to one lonely post.
“Gratitude is unnecessary,” she replied, a rare warmth softening the silver in her voice. “You inherit Maxwell’s legacy. That makes you, in effect, family…”
Aurora’s manner eased further, like a thaw spreading across ice.
“Rest here tonight,” she said. “I shall have healing draughts sent… At first light, we will harvest the Blood Lotus, and I will brief you on every peril Level Eleven conceals.”
She rose, robes whispering like snowfall. “Rest well…”
As she turned, Jared’s guilt caught him by the throat. He stepped forward, voice low. “Lady Aurora, I did not know. I have slain many of your palace’s disciples. I…”
She raised a hand, stilling the confession mid-sentence. “It matters not.”
With a gentle sweep of her palm, a translucent dome brightened at the room’s edge. Inside, the very disciples Jared had cut down lay in perfect repose, as though merely dreaming. Even the Third Celestial General, Celadin, rested among them.
“Fear not,” Aurora’s voice drifted over his shock. “Within these ice plains, their spirits cannot perish; in time, they will rise again.”
Having spoken, she glided away, leaving Jared, Vermilion, and Clara alone in the hushed side-hall.
