Instead of going directly to the Eternal Sun Sect, Kent moved the chariot towards Golden Bamboo City.
The golden chariot glided along the bustling streets of Golden Bamboo City, its wheels making metal sound against the stone paths. But tied to those wheels was a sight that drew gasps from onlookers.
The Poison Clan patriarch, beaten and barely conscious, tied to the side of the chariot wheel, his body circles along the ground, leaving a faint trail of dust and blood in its wake.
The people of Golden Bamboo City had recognised Kent on first sight. They all saw the Blessed Land fight several times in the glass orbs. Now, seeing his golden chariot, they began to cry his name.
“Kent! Master Kent!” they called out, running behind the chariot. Faces filled with awe and curiosity, children pointing at the tied-up man, and whispers spreading like wildfire through the crowd.
Not a single figure recognized the pitiful man tied to the wheel.
Kent, standing on the chariot, glanced at the shops that now bore his name, a testament to how his fame had spread.
His expression remained cold, unfazed by the shouts of the crowd or the growing number of followers chasing after him. The chariot sped up, leaving the city behind as the voices grew distant, only the howling wind and the soft sobs of the Poison Clan patriarch accompanying the ride.
Fifteen minutes later, the grand entrance of the Eternal Sun Sect appeared on the horizon. The massive gates, with golden suns carved into their pillars, stood tall and proud. As Kent’s chariot approached, the disciples stationed at the entrance quickly moved to stop the incoming storm.
One of them was the same gatekeeper who had confronted Kent on his first visit to sect. The disciple blinked in disbelief as the golden chariot zoomed past, not slowing for anyone. He remained standing there, rooted to the ground, while Kent’s chariot raced toward the heart of the sect.
“He… he really came back…” The disciple muttered to himself while remembering the first day, where he stopped Kent with authority.
The chariot stopped before the towering peak of the Burning Sun peak.
Kent, sitting on the chariot throne, turned to Jabil. “Jabil, take Maya to Healing Sun Peak.”
Jabil nodded his head like a chicken and instantly transformed into his seven-headed serpent form, each head as large as a horse.
Maya, her eyes brimming with tears, took one last look at her father, who was bound and mumbling in agony. A single tear fell as she whispered, “Goodbye, Father.” Then, without another glance, she left with Jabil.
Kent’s chariot then moved towards Rising Sun Peak.
The old patriarch of the Eternal Sun Sect, sensing the approach, rose from his seat on the Pillar and began his descent.
The golden throne stopped just beside Peak Master Porus, who sat leisurely on a rock, a bottle of wine in his hand, staring silently into the distance. His gaze flickered briefly over the chariot, perplexed by the sight of a man tied to its wheel.
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Kent stepped down from the chariot and walked over to Porus. He bowed slightly. “Master, I brought you a gift.”
Porus felt curious as he wondered what Kent was talking about. “A gift?”
Kent motioned to the patriarch of the Poison Clan, who was barely hanging on. “This man—he’s the one responsible for the deaths of the twelve hundred disciples from Rising Sun Peak. He’s been hiding behind the name of Matriarch Gamy, pulling the strings from the shadows. The Poison Clan has suffered under his rule for years.”
Porus, now fully focused, set down his bottle of wine and rose to his feet. His eyes, usually calm, turned red an instance. The dead bodies of 1200 fallen disciples appeared before his eyes as remembered the cruel past.
He turned his gaze to the man tied to the chariot and approached slowly, his fists tightening with each step. “Twelve hundred of my disciples… Twelve hundred lives… Don’t you felt any regret?”
The Poison Clan patriarch groaned weakly, but fear had taken over his body, leaving him paralyzed as Porus stared into his eyes with deathly stare.
Before Porus could speak again, the old patriarch of the Eternal Sun Sect arrived, his robes billowing in the wind as he descended from the sky. His eyes glinted as he looked at the scene before him.
“What do you plan to do with him?” the old patriarch asked in a voice that carried authority.
Porus didn’t hesitate. “I want to hang his dead body at the entrance of the sect. A reminder to anyone who dares cross the Eternal Sun Sect.”
The old patriarch’s lips curled into a small smile, nodding approvingly. “Then what are you waiting for? Do it with your own hands. If you delay, I will take revenge myself.”
Hearing the old patriarch’s voice, Kent suddenly recognized it—it was the same voice of the man who had once taken him to the resting place of the dying phoenix deep within the sect grounds.
Porus, with a cold, unrelenting stare, reached for the Poison Clan patriarch and yanked him from the chariot, throwing him to the ground with a thud.
The patriarch coughed, blood spewing from his lips, but still, he managed to mumble, “Spare… Spare Me! I will give great treasures… Please Spare Me”
But only the cruel laugh of Porus came in reply.
The patriarch’s eyes widened in horror. Fear flooded his veins as he finally understood the gravity of his situation. His body trembled as he looked between Kent and Porus, knowing that his end was near.
Porus lifted his hand and picked the collar of the poison clan patriarch.
Turning to Kent, Porus placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have given me the best gift. I’m proud to meet you in my life.”
Kent gave a slight bow. “It was my honor that, Master liked the gift.”
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