Night in Sky Dragon Valley grew so still one could hear the wind whisper through the leaves. The sky was dark as spilled ink, as though brushed across the heavens, and even the stars, cowed by the valley’s aura, showed only the faintest glow.
A full moon, round as a jade plate, hung high and poured down silver light that wrapped the whole valley in softness. That moonlight carried a mild luster, intertwining with the rolling bands of golden draconic energy above the valley.
The energy knit itself into countless slim gold-dragon phantoms that circled mid-air, sometimes diving, sometimes soaring. Their scales flashed under the moon, and the thin, dignified roars they let out sounded as if they were guarding the secret realm.
Jared sat cross-legged on a high cliff. Mist drifted at the rim, a bottomless gorge yawned below, yet he remained as steady as stone, spine straight, eyes closed, breath long and even.
He wore a simple golden robe sewn from dragon-scale brocade the clan had prepared; dark patterns flowed across the cloth, echoing the light that cycled around him.
Golden radiance pulsed over him without conscious effort, rising and falling like breath itself. With each pulse his presence grew denser, and the nearby spiritual energy surged.
Compared to three days earlier when he first entered the valley, that presence had multiplied several times over.
Though his cultivation still rested at the peak of High Immortal Realm Level Three with no hint of breakthrough, he knew his strength already stood far beyond others of the same stage. Even so, during these days he had not rushed into secluded training to assault the fourth level.
He was waiting, waiting for two people of vital importance. One was Vivian, he waited for her wounds to mend. She had staggered into the valley battered and breathless, aura in chaos, meridians badly torn. Without the clan’s miraculous healing pills and the strand of Golden Dragon Aura her had sent into her heart, her life would likely have slipped away.
He was also waiting for word of Luther and Grace. Those two had scattered to who-knew-where. Jared’s brow tightened by a hair, the motion was almost invisible.
Luther had unmatched experience, and Grace’s mind was always precise, reason said the pair together could meet most troubles head-on.
The tightening passed quickly, he let no impulse drive him into rashness. The golden radiance around him paused, then settled back into its steady rhythm, and with it his mind smoothed once more.
At that very moment, a soft, unhurried set of footsteps drifted up behind him.
“Your Majesty…” Hadrian’s respectful voice carried across the night.
As a core member of the Sky Dragon Lineage, his cultivation had already reached High Immortal Realm Level Nine. He had been the first Draconian to bow his head to Jared after the new Dragon Emperor stepped into Sky Dragon Valley.
Jared kept his legs folded and his breathing steady. Without turning, he asked in a calm tone, “What is it?”
Hadrian stopped several paces behind him and inclined his upper body. “Reporting, Your Majesty, the gate guards have just sent word two suspicious human cultivators were taken outside the valley entrance…”
“One man and one woman, both at Middle Immortal Realm Level Six. They carried no identification and refused to explain their origins… They were poking around beyond the valley, trying to use the darkness to slip inside. The guards moved to stop them. The pair resisted, but were subdued almost immediately.”
Jared’s brow lifted. His closed eyes eased open, and a brief flicker of surprise crossed his gaze.
His voice remained level, yet the note of command was unmistakable. “Bring them here. I will look at them myself.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” Hadrian accepted the order with a bow and strode off at once. A short while later, the ground thudded beneath heavier boots. Several Draconian sentries in silver armor marched forward, escorting two prisoners into Jared’s view.
The captives were trussed up thick black-iron chains, every link etched with layers of restrictive sigils that crushed the spiritual force inside their bodies. Fresh evidence of a scuffle still marked them.
The man’s face was smeared with dust, his hair tangled, bruises mottling his cheeks, and his robe hung in tatters. The woman’s hair was equally disheveled, her clothes stained with earth, fine cuts lining her pale face.
When Jared recognized the two faces, he froze for an instant.
“Luther? Grace?” He spoke quietly, the words carrying a hint of teasing that failed to mask an undercurrent of concern.
The pair stiffened the moment that familiar voice reached them. They struggled to lift their heads, and the second they saw the very man they had been chasing across half a continent, their eyes rounded to their limits.
“Mr. Chance?!”
“Young Master Chance?!” Their simultaneous exclamation shook with excitement, wild relief, and the aftertaste of surviving a near disaster.
“Quick, unchain them!” Jared cut in with a sharp wave of his hand, and the urgency in his tone broke through the formality.
