A voice Jared had not heard in months boomed inside his mind, low as thunder rolling beneath the sea. “Go no farther...”
The warning belonged to Vermilion Demon Lord, echoing through Jared's consciousness field with a force that made his heart jolt against his ribs.
Jared halted as though an unseen chain had snapped taut around his chest. He pivoted toward Vermilion Demon Lord. “Mr. Vermilion... Mr. Vermilion...”
The name left his throat in a pleading rasp, half-hope, half-command.
Only silence answered. It felt as if Vermilion Demon Lord had melted out of existence again, leaving the air unnaturally still.
Flaxseed skidded in beside him, the bells on his hemp robe jangling in alarm. “Jared, what's the matter?” His eyes, always merry, were pinched with concern.
Jared didn't speak. A single line creased his brow, the same look a strategist would wear when a carefully drawn map suddenly grew blank.
Corin's sword hovered at his side as he slowed. “Jared, what is it?” The older man's tone held more steel than worry.
“Master Morden, maybe we shouldn't charge straight into Malevolent Path Hall just yet. My strength still feels insufficient. I need it tempered—hardened—before we pick that fight.” Jared's admission slipped out in a low, steady breath that surprised even him.
“Makes no difference to me. I follow your lead.” Corin nodded once, then flicked a glance toward Flaxseed, inviting comment without a word.
After all, they were going to Malevolent Path Hall for the Flaxseed clan's divine souls.
“Jared, what are you saying? You're backing out on me now?” Flaxseed's voice cracked, equal parts disbelief and dawning fear.
He had traveled with Jared long enough to know the younger man never blinked at danger.
To see him hesitate then felt like watching a mountain tremble.
“Of course I'll help you,” Jared said. “But we need caution. Back then, it wasn't only Malevolent Path Hall that butchered your people. Venom Valley, Holy Light Sect—others joined the hunt. We'll squeeze those softer sects first, strip their resources, grow stronger, and then settle the real score.”
In his mind, the plan unfolded like a game of stones: start with the weak corners, gather territory, tighten the noose—then strike the center with irresistible force.
Vermilion Demon Lord's sudden warning hadn't been tossed out for sport. Jared trusted Vermilion Demon Lord's instinct more than his own. He chose to believe, and to live.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance)