Watch how I get away with this, you piece of shit!
Nolan pulled out the spare set of robes that’d been in the blond disciple’s spatial bag, took off his cloak and put them on in its place. Next he donned the white mask he’d initially taken a liking at the store where he’d first encountered Dartan. Last was the jagged dagger that he’d taken from the same store, the one priced at seven hundred and fifty spirit stones.
Swiftly creeping toward the main road, he could hear Dartan bragging to his friends about some beautiful girl he’d recently taken back to the palace. His cocky voice agitated Nolan to the next level. He took deep breaths, steadying himself after a few moments of uncertainty. More warmth from the archaic ring put him in the same state of calm as he’d experienced back at the inn, though now wasn’t the time to analyse the sensation.
As he heard the perverted acts that Dartan was boasting about, he thought of Nyla, of the bright smile she’d worn as they’d explored the city together. If things had turned out differently than the young man would be boasting about Nyla, instead of some other poor girl.
You did this to yourself, bitch.
Honing in on Dartan’s location, Nolan pooled inner essence around his legs as best he knew how and then darted out of the alleyway at his fastest speed. He focused his spiritual sense on his target, dashed into the group of young nobles and punched his dagger straight into Dartan’s neck. The young man was completely taken aback, his eyes widening in horror. Nolan’s mind went cold as he watched blood spurt from his victim’s neck in exaggerated amounts, which spilled down his vibrant white robes like scarlet paint on a fresh canvas.
Twisting the jagged blade, a thought came to him and he snatched the spatial bag hidden within an inner pocket of the young lord’s robe.
“B—Bloodhand Sect!”
The shrill voice carried over the crowd and caused a terrible commotion to break out. The other nobles retreated in a fluster as similar screams filled the air.
Nolan tore his weapon from Dartan’s neck and fled back into the alley before the corpse hit the ground. He pushed himself to his greatest speed, found a shadowy corner a few blocks up and quickly changed back into white pants and a blue tunic over a white shirt.
Shocked by his own actions, he hurried onto a nearby street and quickly made his way to the eastern gate of the city. There hadn’t been anyone at the Profound Entry stage present in front of the restaurant, so nobody would have sensed his aura.
When he saw that ten guards stood around the gate, Nolan ducked into another alleyway and slipped back into the disciple’s robes. He paused for a moment to stare at the white mask in his hand, struck by a peculiar thought. He wasn’t sure what was more disturbing; the fact that he’d just murdered someone, or the fact that he didn’t feel a pinch of remorse for doing it.
He sensed that somebody was slowly making their way down the alleyway adjacent to him, another beggar, most likely. Pushing all thoughts aside, he secured the mask to his head and plunged straight toward the towering wall, the guards blocked by all of the people that congested around the gateway.
He ignored the startled screams that began sounding in the area, overlooked the vigilant stares of the armoured guards as they quickly drew their weapons at the sight of him. He put everything he had into a powerful jump, kicked off of the wall and grabbed hold of the stone parapets above. Without missing a beat, he hopped over the other edge of the wall and plummeted downward, catching hold of a bundle of vines about midway to the ground. He let go after a second and fell the rest of the way down to the earth below.
Guards began to swarm out of the gates, so he ran for the countryside with everything he had. Follow me, he thought desperately. He couldn’t believe that he’d taken such a tremendous risk just so that he could fit Dartan’s death into his agenda.
Looking back at the guards that continued to pour out of the city, he grew alarmed when he saw that some were quite fast. With the great mass of mossy fortifications at his back, he sped over to the nearest copse of trees and quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes. Now in black trousers and a grey tunic, he hurried through the forest and continued heading east. He ran parallel to the road until two craggy hills came into view off in the distance. Once he drew closer, he realized that the two mounds were actually a single hill that seemed to have been split straight down the middle.
I’m gonna guess this is Broken Hill?
Chapter Fifteen: What’s Your Name?
Nolan passed what he could only assume was Broken Hill, and then hurried southward at his maximum speed.
The urgency of the situation prevented him from appreciating the stunning beauty of the surrounding meadows, which drew a stark contrast with the dreary darkness that clouded his thoughts.
To think that I might get killed today…
He had a lot of gunpowder, sure, but that wouldn’t make up for the gap in numbers or the division in strength between him and his opponents. How was he supposed to face off against an entire band of bandits and a handful of members from the Bloodhand Sect?
He’d intended on luring a group of guards or soldiers away from the city and over to the enemy camp, but after a certain point he’d looked back only to see that they had completely fallen off his trail. He’d planned to rescue Nyla and Quin while their captors were distracted by the city lord’s men, though it didn’t seem like this option was still on the table.
Shaken with anxiety, he nearly lost the courage to continue onward. He was only sixteen—seventeen, he supposed, after spending over half a year in that peculiar, monochrome glade.
He was calmed by a sudden wave of warm energy, which helped him reign in his thoughts and recompose himself under a sound mind. This ring is amazing. He took a deep breath. I’ll look into it later. For now, I need a plan.
He took out a spirit stone and used it to replenish all of the energy he’d consumed since leaving the city. His dantian filtered and compressed the gentle power into a large amount of vibrant inner essence.
What the…? If he focused his spiritual sense on his dantian then he could catch a wispy trace of colourless energy that seemed to be connected to the ring. He couldn’t help but curse his luck as he investigated the recent development. The ring was finally showing signs of activity. Why does it have to be now? He pushed thoughts of the ring to the back of his mind. For now, he needed to focus on the upcoming fight.
The five disciples were his biggest worry, specifically their leader. Although the gunpowder could wreak large amounts of havoc, his main opponents were much sturdier than normal people. In order to inflict the most damage and create an optimum situation, his main weapon would be the ignorance of his enemies. Science didn’t seem to exist in this world, and if it did then his current opponents weren’t the sort of people that would know of it.
The first battle would be one of wits, his first target the strongest disciple of the group.
An impatient look crept onto Serp’s face as he looked around the temporary camp that the bandits had arranged for him and his men. Twenty tents sprawled across a small clearing that was located in a rather large forest just a few leagues east of the city. Thinking back on the expansive villa where he’d lived out the past four years within the sect, he couldn’t help but look down on the matted fur and grey hide shelters that the bandits had erected. If not for the lord elder’s assignment, he would never willingly subject himself to such lowly accommodations.
He’d sent a handful of bandits to apprehend their target, all of them at the first level of the Profound Entry stage. They would be returning any time now, at which point he and his brothers would disable the lot of them and then refine away the inner essence within their blood. He would then make off with his prize and beat a hasty return to the sect.
The lord elder had always carried an inexplicable fondness for his useless grandson, and would almost certainly reward the boy’s avenger with generosity. As one of the seated elders closest to the tit
le of great elder, any rewards from Lord Zaro would surely help Serp to raise his status to unprecedented heights. Then he could finally found his own faction within the inner court.
Serp kept tapping at the arm of his wooden chair, an indifferent expression on his face as he studied the timid bandits that filled the area. His spiritual sense extended over forty paces in every direction, and could still extend farther if he wished. This lot might be a simple bunch, but they have decent cultivations. The ninth level of the Profound Entry stage…I should reach it after making use of these fools.
Although his goal was almost accomplished, one worry kept nagging at him. He’d ordered Russ to make a short visit to the merchant that they’d heard about back at the appraisal store, with over a dozen bandits at the youth’s disposal.
One of these men had returned quite a while ago and informed him that their target was staying at one of the many inns within the city’s southern district, and that Russ had sent the majority of his group to monitor the most likely locations. While on the lookout, some of these men happened to notice a pair of people that almost perfectly fit the descriptions that the appraiser had provided about the target’s supposed companions. The bandits had made a quick decision to abduct the two, a girl and a young man, after they followed them back to their lodgings.
One person stayed back at the inn to wait for Zaern’s killer. The youth would show up at some point, as he had no way of knowing about the capture of his friends. The man that stayed behind would lead him to a field of purple flowers just north of the city, under the guise of exchanging the lives of his friends for some treasures. If all went well, then he’d be halfway back to Lord Zaro’s domain before the week was out.
The nagging at the back of his mind only grew as the minutes trickled by. Russ had yet to make an appearance, along with more than half of the bandits who’d accompanied him into Greenwall.
You better hurry, junior brother. Once I get my hands on our target, I’m leaving.
It was unwise to linger in the area, not when the city lord might suspect that other disciples were somewhere within his borders. The people of Verdure truly detested the Bloodhand Sect, to the extent that even the most distinguished and powerful expert would immediately attack the lowliest of their members should they happen to cross paths with them. If Russ had been caught then their presence grew more precarious with each passing moment.
An agonizing scream pierced through the clearing, though it quickly died down as its owner drew their last breath, a grotesquely guttural inhalation. His junior brothers stood off to the side of the camp, where they took their time refining everyone that had been a part of a small merchant caravan that happened to pass by the forest on its way to the capital. The last of nearly two dozen people were slowly drained of all strength, a sight that paled the surrounding bandits and left the encampment strangely quiet.
Serp and his men had dressed like commoners since entering the lands of Verdure, so the bandits hadn’t known about their origins. Now that they’d revealed themselves as disciples of the Bloodhand Sect, the temporary force of lowly brigands didn’t dare to whisper among themselves, let alone risk a voice of incompliance.
Serp didn’t mind revealing his background to these men, as they’d soon outlive their worth. Oh right, I nearly forgot about her.
The girl was bound to a tree just a few paces away from where the disciples were busy refining the last of their victims. The spot earned her a prime view of the meticulous process.
What a wonderful look.
Her eyes were dim and unseeing, her expression one of perilous sorrow and unfettered fear. At first she’d worn a steely frown that one couldn’t help but commend, especially when taking her age into consideration. Even during the years he’d spent undergoing the trials to enter the inner court, very few people had made that face after being captured by him and his brother disciples.
That look had disappeared when Serp had tied her to that tree and refined her companion into a desiccated husk before her tear-stained eyes. She’d screamed her throat hoarse as the muscly brute had thrashed around in Serp’s relentless grasp, punching at his arm with ever-fading strength. Her cries made it evident that they were siblings. Every last drop of the young man’s inner essence was absorbed into Serp’s dantian and refined, which left the corpse looking as if it had been taken out of an old tomb.
He didn’t need them alive, so naturally he’d planned on refining them along with the bandits after they’d captured their target. He’d noticed some of those younger bandits cringe as they watched the girl’s brother die, for her anguished cries put the otherwise silent clearing under a dreadful spell that persisted up until the last merchant was refined.
All techniques had a unique intent that needed to be held in order to activate them, and the more powerful ones incorporated several stringent mindsets. Serp knew that his actions had been cruel, but malicious intent was the foundation that supported the Blood-Burning Heart Technique. If he didn’t commit atrocious acts then how could he ever hope to nurture his core cultivation method to its highest potential?
The raven-haired girl would occasionally shiver as if in the cold winds of a winter storm, her eyes dim and listless as she kept her gaze fixed to the ground. She feared him. It was a great feeling, to be feared, one he had nearly forgotten since Brecht forced him to become his follower. If the spoiled bastard didn’t agree with something that Serp did or said, he would chastise him no matter who else was around. This had a negative effect on his image within the faction, and also within the rest of Lord Zaro’s domain. How long had it been since he’d felt the invigorating sensation of exerting absolute power over others?
Half an hour passed before his patience ran thin. He couldn’t afford to wait around for much longer. If the other bandits didn’t show up within ten minutes then he would make his way to the northern meadows and await Zaern’s killer himself.
Just as he was about to get up to leave, he felt a life signal encroach upon the fringes of his spiritual sense. He remained seated, gave no indication that he had noticed someone hiding along the treeline. Fourth level of Body Nourishment? The one he was after had the same cultivation, but he couldn’t see how he would have found their camp.
The intruder didn’t keep him guessing, as he quickly emerged from a broad thicket just over a forty paces away from Serp’s tent. Dozens of heads turned in the direction of the sudden arrival, as several grumbles and whispers popped up throughout the camp.
The boy raised his hands in pacification. “I’ve come here for my friends.”
Serp nodded at his fellow disciples, who quickly darted over to the young man and surrounded him in a triangular formation. Three red-hot hands quickly found vital areas on the boy’s body, the disciples looking over at Serp for instructions. The youth lost all colour in his face and went completely still, a wonderful expression of terror.
The girl’s head shot up at the sound of the young man’s voice, but instead of calling out to him she simply began to cry.
Serp fixed him with a chilling glare. “Where are your escorts?” They were the only ones who could have led him to their location.
“I don’t know! They brought me to the forest and then took off running!”
So they abandoned their comrades while we were preoccupied with the boy. He would have done the same.
This boy killed Zaern? Brown hair just long enough to be shaggy, rich brown irises and a handsome face, dressed in plain black trousers and a simple grey tunic.
“Wait!” The youth’s desperate gaze settling on Serp, whose actions announced himself as the leader of the group. “If you listen to what I have to say, you won’t regret it!”
“Oh?” Serp slowly got to his feet. The bandits had gathered around the newcomer, the three outer court disciples poising their scalding hands just above his vitals. He stopped about eight paces away from the boy, standing straight ahead of him. “Did you think there would actually be an exchange? Nothing you say
will help you leave here alive.”
“Wait!” the boy panicked. “Of course I know that, but I’m still here. That’s because I think I can offer you something so valuable that you’ll let me leave.”
Serp casually tore the sleeves from his robe. He’d have to change clothes after dealing with the boy, but the blood-red tattoos that had formed after he’d mastered the Scarlet Serpent Strike were a comfort to his eyes that he dearly missed. “What could a simple commoner have that would be of any worth to me?”
“I have a treasure on me. I’m going to take it out of my spatial bag and then explain how it works. After that, I’ll give it to you. I’m confident that you’ll be so happy with it that you’ll let me and my friends walk out of here unharmed.”
The look in the boy’s eyes seemed genuine. Could he really be in possession of some sort of treasure? If it truly was a valuable item, then Serp could just kill him and take it. The evernight bow that he’d found in the girl’s spatial bag was proof enough that the boy was Zaern’s killer. “A treasure, you say? Let’s see it.”
He ordered his fellow disciples to stand down. They took a few steps back, though maintained their triangular formation.
Once he had a bit of room to breathe, the boy pulled out his spatial bag and closed his eyes. He tilted the bag and a large barrel tumbled to the ground, appearing so suddenly that it was almost like it had been conjured out of thin air. What surprised Serp wasn’t the abrupt appearance of the barrel. Anybody could use a spatial bag freely, but in order to summon or store items that were far larger than the bag itself a spiritual sense was necessary. Is that a special bag, or is it something to do with him?
Junior brother Brud had mentioned that one of his companions had been seriously injured by this boy. Only Zaern had died to his poison, which meant that he was capable of holding his own against someone two levels above him in cultivation.
It should be impossible for someone at the Body Nourishment stage. Perhaps he had a peculiar bloodline? Serp looked forward to refining the young man.
The Grey Ghost: Book Two of the Archaic Ring Series Page 15
