“Heh…One would expect that, one rat would be better at finding another….I guess that is not true.”
Jayan’s sharp gaze darted to Varos, and she didn’t miss the smug grin creeping onto his face. “You let them escape too,” she said curtly, her voice edged with ice. “I assume you’re not here to gloat about a victory.”
Varos let out a booming laugh, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “Let them escape? No, no, Jayan. I was cleaning up your mess.” His amber eyes gleamed with malice as he turned toward her fully. “Though it’s no surprise you’d let them slip through your fingers. After all, rats know their own kind.”
The insult struck hard, and Jayan’s composure cracked. She scoffed, her grip tightening on her blade. “Careful, Varos. Your oversized ego might make you forget that you’re no closer to catching them than I am.”
The wiry elder chuckled darkly, stepping closer to join Varos. “Oh, we didn’t lose them because of incompetence, dear Jayan. Unlike you, we don’t have a natural kinship with vermin. Maybe that’s why they slip away when you’re around.”
Jayan’s two allies bristled, their glares fixed on the original Crimson Serpent elders. The scarred elder stepped forward, his voice low and threatening. “Watch your tongue, Varos, or I’ll remind you why we’re here in the first place.”
Varos turned his sharp gaze on him, his grin fading into a dangerous scowl. “You think you can threaten me? You’re here because you couldn’t keep your own sect standing, and don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”
The tension between the groups rose sharply, mana crackling faintly in the air as tempers flared.
The crackling tension between the groups was interrupted when the wiry elder spoke up, his sharp tone cutting through the argument. “Wait… don’t you think it’s strange?”
Varos turned to him, scowling. “Strange? What are you babbling about now?”
The wiry elder ignored the irritation in Varos’s voice, his smirk replaced by a thoughtful expression. “These mercenaries wreaked havoc across the city, causing chaos left and right. But the moment we arrived, they scattered like rats. They didn’t even try to fight back—not in any meaningful way.”
Elder Jayan, still simmering with frustration, narrowed her eyes. “What’s your point? They’re cowards. They knew they couldn’t stand against us.”
The wiry elder shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. If they knew we had strong elders like us, why would they even attack in the first place? With their measly strength, it’s suicidal.”
Varos grunted, his grip tightening on his axe. “Maybe they’re just mad dogs. Who knows what rabble like that think?”
Jayan’s scarred ally stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Mad dogs don’t fight with coordination like that. Did you see how they moved? How they isolated and struck specific targets? That wasn’t random. They had a plan.”
The wiry elder snapped his fingers, nodding. “Exactly. And yet, when we showed up, they didn’t even attempt to resist. They ran, scattering into the night like their job was already done.”
Jayan’s gaze sharpened as the implication sank in. “Stalling,” she muttered, her voice low and cold.
Varos stiffened, his amber eyes narrowing. “What are you suggesting?”
Jayan turned toward him, her composure regaining its edge. “If their goal wasn’t to win, but to stall us, it changes everything. The chaos they caused, the scattered attacks, the retreats—it all makes sense if their main objective was somewhere else.”
The wiry elder crossed his arms, his expression contemplative. “Maybe they were after the warehouses,” he said, glancing at the others. “It would make sense. They could be looking to steal supplies or trade goods. But even then, it feels off. The warehouses don’t hold anything that valuable—at least not enough to warrant this kind of stunt.”
Elder Varos scowled, his grip tightening on the haft of his axe. “That’s because the sect keeps all its valuable items in the armory beneath the main mansion. And no one in their right mind would even think of targeting that. Not with the Patriarch there.”
Jayan’s silver-streaked hair glimmered as she tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze fixed on Varos. “Exactly. The Patriarch’s strength is unmatched in this region. Even these mercenaries, reckless as they are, wouldn’t dare attack the armory with him guarding it. It’s suicide.”
The scarred elder nodded, his brow furrowing. “Then why? What’s the point of all this chaos? They’ve lost too many people for this to be a simple raid.”
The wiry elder smirked faintly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “Maybe they’re just insane. Or maybe there’s something we’re missing.”
Jayan’s frustration was evident in the tightness of her jaw as she sheathed her blade. “Whatever the case, their actions don’t add up. If they were targeting the warehouses, we’d have caught them by now. If they had a larger plan, they wouldn’t have retreated so easily. And yet…”
Varos cut her off with a growl, his amber eyes narrowing. “Enough speculation. We’ve wasted enough time chasing shadows. Let’s return to the mansion and report to the Patriarch. He’ll know how to handle this.”
The wiry elder raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “For once, I agree. The Patriarch will want to hear about this… whatever it was.”
Jayan’s lips thinned, her irritation barely concealed. “Fine. Let’s regroup and report. But this isn’t over. Something about this still doesn’t sit right.”
The elders moved swiftly through the streets of Thornridge, their qinggong-enhanced steps carrying them over rooftops and through alleyways. The city was eerily quiet now, the chaos of the mercenaries’ attack reduced to smoldering ruins and scattered corpses. The disciples they passed bowed low, their faces pale and shaken from the night’s events.
Just then, as they approached the towering gates of the Crimson Serpent Sect’s main mansion, a strange unease settled over them. The air felt heavy, charged with an unnatural energy. A metallic tang hung in the still night, faint at first but growing stronger with every step.
“What the—?” Varos growled, his senses sharpening. His grip tightened on his axe as his amber eyes scanned the darkness ahead. “Something’s wrong.”
Jayan slowed, her sharp gaze darting toward the source of the smell. Her voice was calm, but tension laced her words. “This smell… it’s blood.”
The wiry elder’s smirk vanished, his expression turning grim. “Not just blood. A lot of it.”
Without another word, the elders burst into motion, their qinggong movements carrying them swiftly through the gates and into the mansion’s courtyard. The sight that greeted them stopped them in their tracks.
Piles of corpses lay scattered across the courtyard, their crimson robes unmistakable. The disciples who had been left behind were now broken, lifeless forms. Blood pooled across the polished stone, glinting ominously under the faint moonlight.
“What…?” Varos breathed, his voice heavy with disbelief. His axe lowered slightly as his eyes swept over the scene. “How is this possible?”
The scarred elder stepped forward, his jaw clenched tightly. “This… this can’t be real. These were the disciples guarding the mansion.”
Jayan’s silver-streaked hair shimmered as she moved cautiously toward the nearest pile of bodies, her expression icy and unreadable. Her blade was already drawn, its edge glinting in the faint light. “It’s real,” she said quietly. “Someone did this. And they did it with precision.”
Before anyone could respond, a sharp SWOOSH cut through the air. A black beam of light streaked across the courtyard, its speed blinding. It struck one of the elders square in the neck, piercing through his artery in a single, precise motion.
SPURT!
Blood erupted from the wound, spraying across the courtyard as the elder collapsed, clutching at his throat. His gasping breaths were drowned out by the sound of blood splattering against the cold stone.
“What?!” Varos roared, spinning around to locate the source of the attack. His eyes burned with fury as he raised his axe defensively.
Jayan’s blade was already in motion, her sharp gaze darting toward the direction of the beam. “Show yourself!” she demanded, her voice echoing through the blood-soaked courtyard.
A faint chuckle echoed through the air, low and mocking. The sound carried an unsettling calmness that sent a shiver down the spines of even the hardened elders. From the shadows of the courtyard, a figure emerged, his steps unhurried and deliberate.
The man who revealed himself was tall and lean, his presence exuding an aura of quiet menace. His dark cloak billowed slightly in the faint wind, and his piercing eyes gleamed with an unnatural light. In his hand, he held a blade that shimmered with the faint glow of starlight—black and pulsating, as if alive.
“Ho…” the man said, his voice smooth and mocking. “You’ve finally returned. I was beginning to think you’d abandoned your precious sect.”
His gaze swept over the elders, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “And here I thought I’d have to hunt you down myself.”
Varos growled, his amber eyes blazing with fury. “Who are you?! What have you done here?”
The man tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening. “Who am I? A fair question, but hardly relevant. What I’ve done, however…” He gestured casually toward the scattered corpses around him, his tone almost playful. “Well, that should be obvious, shouldn’t it?”
Jayan stepped forward, her blade gleaming with mana as her voice cut through the tension. “You’re responsible for this massacre. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”
The man chuckled softly, his piercing gaze meeting hers. “Yup…..I, of course, know who am I dealing with…..Do you think I would have come here if I didn’t?” He said with his smirk wide.
“Hmm…..So, you are the one named Jayan…..Heh….The rat….” His eyes turned, his tone dripping with disdain. “Well, it is time to pay for the actions.”