On the walk back to his small cabin, Darian quietly mulled over Valtor's words, spoken moments earlier through a voice transmission.
Voice transmission was no simple skill. Only cultivators of considerable strength could wield it, sending thoughts directly into another's mind. In this way, Valtor had explained why he had no choice but to participate in the Hundred Cities Battle.
Darian's boots crunched softly against the stone-paved path. A light breeze played with his long black hair, brushing across a face seemingly carved from calm stone. In that stillness was a certain magnetism, drawing glances from every direction.
Valeblue clan disciples passing nearby watched him with curiosity, envy, and no small measure of admiration. Some young women found themselves noticing, for the first time, just how striking he truly was.
He paid them no mind. Without a word, Darian returned to his cabin, sat cross-legged upon the bed, and closed his eyes to cultivate.
Though his duel with Lucian had been far from his most difficult fight, it had still cost him some of his origin force. Even with the boundless energy of the Battle Saint Law, he had only just begun to grasp its depths. Complete mastery would take time. But he knew refining his technique would make his Saint Dao Battle Aura stronger with every step.
When immersed in cultivation, Darian set aside all distractions. Only by growing stronger could he defeat Jaren, find Uncle Felric, and uncover the truth of Riven's past. Strength was the root of all things, and in this world, the only law that mattered.
Buzz.
Golden-red essence roared quietly through his veins. Swallowing a few first-grade, low-tier restorative pills, he pressed onward.
An hour later, his eyes snapped open; the room seemed to brighten with his renewed vitality. His energy was fully restored, though the deep bruise Lucian's grip left on his shoulder would linger for days.
Sigh… I'm still far too weak.
The thought of Jaren's overwhelming strength didn't frighten him; it sharpened him. Four years from now, he would kill that man.
"Four years will be enough."
The voice of Riven, long silent, echoed in his mind.
Jaren had given him ten years. Darian had cut that down to four at Riven's urging.
"Heh. Today's events have certainly broken the silence of your ten lifeless years."
Riven's teasing brought a ghost of a smile to Darian's lips. "I have a feeling the days ahead will be… far from quiet."
He reached into his robe and drew out the Blood Dragon Jade. The dragon-shaped pendant glowed faintly, warm against his palm.
"By the way, Riven, how much do you believe City Lord Qi's claim that he once saw this pendant in the First Main City?"
Valtor's parting argument was that this very jade had appeared there. If so, somewhere in that city might lie a thread leading to Uncle Felric.
"He wouldn't lie about this," Riven replied. "No reason to. If he's telling the truth, then yes, your Uncle Felric's trail may indeed lead there."
Darian nodded and tucked the jade away. Thoughts of the Hundred Cities Battle brought to mind two others: the sword-wielding youth from the Ancient Forest, and the cultivator from the Mortal Soul Cleansing Realm whom he had driven back with a single punch.
The youth had given his name as Faelan and promised they would cross swords at the Battle.
"It seems the Hundred Cities Battle might be… interesting after all."
A faint spark of anticipation lit Darian's gaze.
Creak.
Opening the cabin door, he stepped into the night. Moonlight silvered the land, stars scattered like cold fire above.
He set off toward Theron's quarters. The man's injuries had been partly his fault, and Darian wished to ensure he was recovering, as well as to ask him about Uncle Felric.
Swish.
His figure blurred along the stone path. Theron's residence lay deep in the Valeblue family's core.
Halfway there, he passed a tall, graceful two-story building—Liora's residence. Quiet. Secluded. Most Valeblue disciples never came close.
Everyone knew Liora's strength was unfathomable. Though gentle in manner, she seemed as if she belonged to another world, someone who might vanish at any moment.
Darian was the rare exception, the only one who could be near her without feeling a gulf between them—a fact that had earned him more than a little envy.
Haven't seen the little girl in a month, he thought, the faintest smile touching his lips. I've missed her tea. I'll have to make sure I visit next time.
But his steps did not slow.
Buzz.
Suddenly, a fierce, unfamiliar energy flared from within Liora's home, followed by a soft, pained cry.
"Not good! Liora!"
He knew that voice instantly.
Whoosh!
Saint Dao Battle Aura surging, Darian spun and raced toward the building.
Bang!
He smashed through the locked door, found the ground floor empty, and darted upstairs straight into her private boudoir, a place forbidden to others.
Cry!
A clear, majestic avian cry rang out, filling the air with blazing red light. Heat slammed into him, stealing his breath. Shielding his eyes, he forced them open only to see Liora lying on the bed, sweat-soaked and flushed, her features twisted in agony.
Above her floated a phantom bird of pure flame, three feet long, wings spread wide. It had no flesh, only a soul form, but its heat was like a living volcano.
Waves of fiery spiritual power poured from it into Liora's body, and her pain deepened.
"Foul beast! How dare you!"
Golden-red battle aura flared around Darian as he lunged, one hand outstretched. He dared not unleash a killing strike; his aim was to restrain, not harm.
But the bird's red glow resisted him. Its wings beat faster, desperate.
"Open for me!"
With a surge of raw power, he broke through and seized it.
So hot!
The burning was instant, the skin of his palm blistering. Blood welled, but he refused to let go.
Buzz!
The bird shuddered violently. Golden light burst forth, blasting him backward.
He steadied himself, ready to strike again when Riven's voice cut through sharply:
"Don't attack! This is the True Spirit Fusion of the Phoenix-Luan Heavenly Maiden! No wonder I sensed something unusual about her—she's the heir to that bloodline. This will only benefit her. Stand down!"
Darian froze, chest rising with controlled breath, and glanced at his burned hand.
Cry!
The fiery bird, now laced with gold, sang a clear, joyous note, its voice brushing his mind:
"Thank you… for making me whole… Golden Heaven's Dao… thank you…"
Then, with a sweep of blazing wings, it dove into Liora's body. The light vanished.
Her features eased, breath steadying, as if she had simply fallen into peaceful sleep.
Darian exhaled slowly. So that was why she hadn't been at his match earlier. Pulling up a chair beside her bed, he resumed cultivation. He would stay until she woke.
The night passed in silence.
When dawn's light spilled through the window, Liora's lashes fluttered. Her eyes, clear as the purest spring, opened… and fixed immediately on him.
And in their depths, for the first time, he saw something that made his heart still.