The outline of Wayfarers’ Haven grew clearer little by little at the edge of sight.
Three blazing suns hung high above. Gold, silver, and crimson light wove together as they poured down, coating the enormous city that stood upon the Wastelands in an eerie dark-gold sheen.
The city walls had been built from rough gray stone. They rose about 10 yards high, and their surfaces were carved full of dense warding sigils. The light coming from those sigils had no order to it. Some burned bright. Some had already gone dim. They had clearly come from the hands of different cultivators, each with a different style, without the slightest unified pattern.
In the strict, orderly cities of the celestials, something like this would have been impossible. But Wayfarers’ Haven was exactly that kind of place-no rules, no order. Everyone had their own sigils. Everyone had their own formation. No one could control anyone else.
The city gate stood wide open. There were no guards and no inspections. Anyone could come or go at any time.
Elder Emberlain and Elder Frostgrave landed in front of the city gate. They drew in the Golden Immortal aura around them and suppressed their cultivation to around Level Nine of the True Immortal Realm.
One after the other, they stepped through the city gate. The stone road underfoot was pitted and uneven, its hollows filled with rainwater and stains no one could name. A damp, moldy smell rose from it.
Shops crowded both sides of the street. There were sellers of healing elixirs, sellers of arcane implements, sellers of intelligence, sellers of talismans, anything a cultivator might want could be found there.
The signs were even more chaotic. Some had been carved from heartwood. Some were painted on beast hide. Some were nothing more than a few words scrawled on a rag and hung out front.
The street was packed with people. There were members of the human race, the beast race, demons, and even the Ghost Clan, along with a few races Jared could not have put a name to. They wore every kind of clothing. Some were dressed in finery. Some were wrapped in rags. Some had bright cuirasses on their bodies. Others looked as if their clothes might fall apart in the next gust of wind.
When they brushed past one another, their eyes would slide openly toward the other person’s Storage Ring or the arcane implement hanging at their waist. Every glance measured what could be taken, and what might strike back!
This was a place where the weak got eaten by the strong. No rules. No law. A fist carried all the reason anyone needed!
Elder Emberlain’s face gave nothing away as his gaze moved across the surroundings. The city’s layout, the spread of cultivators, the rise and fall of their auras, favonovel.com took it all in.
Elder Frostgrave followed behind him, silver eyes smooth as still water, as if none of this had anything to do with him. They crossed several streets before stopping in front of an unremarkable inn.
The inn’s frontage was small. The paint on the door panels had already peeled away in mottled patches, exposing the gray-black wood beneath. A wooden sign hung at the doorway, carved with four crooked characters, “Havenford Inn”.
“Here…” Elder Frostgrave said under his breath.
Elder Emberlain gave a nod, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
The inn’s main hall was not large. A few tables stood scattered around, with a single counter set off to one side.
Behind the counter stood an old man with graying hair and cultivation at True Immortal Realm Level Nine. His eyes narrowed as favonovel.com sized up the guests who had just come in. His gaze stayed on the two of them for a moment.
He asked nothing. He only lifted two fingers. “Two upper rooms. Ten middle-grade spirit stones for one night…”
Elder Frostgrave took twenty middle-grade spirit stones from his sleeve and placed them on the counter.
The old man put away the spirit stones, took two keys down from upon the wall, and tossed them onto the counter. “Upstairs, on the left. Third room and fourth room.”
The two men took the keys and went up the stairs.
The guest room was not big, but it was clean enough. A wooden bed. A wooden table. A wooden chair.
In the corner sat the prayer mat. The window opened on the south-facing wall. Through the papered pane, the gray sky outside showed in a blur, along with the hazy outlines of the three blazing suns.
Elder Emberlain sat on the bed and took the Soul-Vault Pearl from his sleeve, holding it in his palm.
Inside the pearl, that violet soul remained quiet. The golden radiance flickered in and out around it.
“What do we do next?” His voice came out rough, scraped thin by days of travel.
Elder Frostgrave leaned by the window, his gaze fixed on the sky outside. “First, we settle in Wayfarers’ Haven. We rest for a few days and stabilize our cultivation. After that, we gather information and see which forces in the Seventeenth Firmament are still worth working with.”
“Working with?” Elder Emberlain gave a cold laugh. “We are Golden Immortals. We have fallen so far that we need to place ourselves under others now?”
Elder Frostgrave shook his head. “Not place ourselves under them. Cooperate with them. We need higher Golden Immortals to activate the Soul-Refining Grand Array together. The two of us alone are not enough… The Seventeenth Firmament must still have powerful adepts like Venerable Starwick. We simply do not know who they are. We need to find them.”
Elder Emberlain went quiet for a moment. He slipped the Soul-Vault Pearl back into his sleeve, closed his eyes, and said, “Then we rest for a few days first.”
Neither of them spoke again. Each closed his eyes and began regulating his breath.
Outside the inn, people came and went along the street, and noise rolled through in waves. Some argued. Some traded. Some fought with techniques right there in the open.
Spiritual light flashed. Arcane implements clashed. One sound rose after another, pushing into the inn, passing through the wall, and drilling into both men’s ears. But the discipline of Golden Immortals stood far beyond ordinary people. None of that noise touched them in the slightest.
***
At the same time, in Pole Star Hall, Venerable Starwick sat on the black throne in the great hall. His face was still pale, and his aura still carried a trace of weakness. That single thread of aura from the Aureate Codex had torn hard into Venerable Starwick’s spirit.
A full night of healing had pulled favonovel.com clear of any real danger, but a thin residue of wrongness still lingered inside him. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest. The rhythm came slow, each beat pressing something sharp and heavy back under the surface.
Below the throne, a black-clad adept knelt on the floor. His aura was pulled tight and hidden. His cultivation stood at Golden Immortal Level One, and favonovel.com was the spymaster of Pole Star Hall.
His forehead stayed pressed to the ground. He did not dare lift his head.
“Report…” Venerable Starwick’s voice was perfectly calm.
“Hall Master, Venerable Emberlain and Venerable Frostgrave have left the territories of Pole Star Hall and entered Wayfarers’ Haven.” The black-clad adept’s voice was low and clear. “Your servant followed them the whole way according to the Hall Master’s orders. I did not dare get close, and I did not dare alert them.”
Venerable Starwick’s fingers stopped for a beat. “Wayfarers’ Haven? They have some sense after all. They know to crawl into a place like that…”
The corner of his mouth lifted, forming a cold smile. “Wayfarers Haven is full of every kind of trash and talent mixed together. No major power controls it. It really is a good place to hide… Too bad. Do they actually think slipping into Wayfarers’ Haven makes them safe?”
He went quiet for a moment. Then his fingers began tapping lightly against the armrest again.
After a few breaths his voice rang, “Send down the order… Have Elder Rowe, Elder Pennyworth, Elder Sunter, and Elder Leary come see me.”
“Yes!” The black-clad adept rose to his feet, bowed, and withdrew from the great hall.
A short while later, the four Golden Immortal elders entered one after another. They stopped in the center of the great hall and bowed in unison.
“Hall Master…”
Venerable Starwick looked at them. His gaze moved across each of their faces.
The four elders ranged from Golden Immortal Levels One to Two. All of them were part of Pole Star Hall’s core fighting strength. They had followed him for many years and had never wavered.
“Elder Rowe. Elder Pennyworth… Go to Wayfarers Haven. Find Aurelius and Cassian. Kill them, and take back the Soul-Vault Pearl…” Venerable Starwick’s tone stayed flat, as if favonovel.com were assigning some trivial errand.
Elder Rowe’s brow creased slightly. He was tall, with an old-fashioned, weathered face and graying hair. He cultivated metal-attribute arcane arts and excelled at direct frontal assaults.
He stepped forward and spoke in a deep voice. “Hall Master, there is one thing your servant does not understand.”
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