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After separating a part of his mind from his physical shell, he turned his attention to his body, which was lying on the sofa. Here, within the world of energy, the three cultivators from the unknown school looked like small, indistinct dots. They could, of course, be ‘zoomed in on’ and examined in detail, but… Even the weakest of cultivators could feel when they were being observed thoroughly. He was certain that they wouldn’t appreciate him doing so.
Dismissing the momentary temptation, Hadjar focused on his energy body. What he saw didn’t inspire much optimism.
His fall and subsequent tumble along the rocks had cost him a fair bit. The once unified, complex pattern of wide channels that had connected all of his nodes… now looked like the remnants of a torn tapestry. If not for Alea, he would’ve died a few days ago.
Returning his attention to the physical world, Hadjar once again looked at the trio. They were his enemies. Lascanians had tried to kill him at least twice before — at the ‘Heaven’s Pond’, whose legendary cuisine he hadn’t tried because of the assassins of the Apocalypse Sect who worshiped the Black General. The cooks, who had been the reason behind the restaurant’s fame, had been killed in that battle. Hadjar was still sad that he hadn’t gotten to try their food at least once.
The second time... Well, it was when the Lascanians had bribed the nomad tribes to get them to destroy the miniature Kingdom of Lidus. However, the nomads had failed. That’s why Hadjar considered the military and the cultivators of Lascan (he didn’t care about the civilians) his opponents. Not enemies, but opponents he would fight against with dignity until the day he died.
However, this trio… Above all, Hadjar was a man of honor. With great difficulty, he raised his fist and touched his chest with it.
“I swear-”
“Shut up, lest you go to your forefathers!” Alea exclaimed, amplifying the flow of energy she was using to keep his broken channels somewhat functional.
Hadjar, despite suffering unbearable pain and tasting blood, continued:
“...that... I’ll repay... this debt.”
The strength left him. His hand hung limply, and his mind turned off.
***
“i***t!” Alea shouted, but it was already too late.
The injured man, who hadn’t even said his name, lost consciousness.
Striking the side of the carriage with her open palm, she made the horses neigh and run faster. Had she not helped him, the stranger would’ve been crippled by that stunt. At best.
“Are you satisfied now, Derek?” The infuriated girl grabbed her whip. The only thing that stopped her from using it then and there was the fact that if she moved her hand off the stranger’s chest, he would die immediately.
“What did I do?” Derek exclaimed.
“If not for your accusations, he wouldn’t have made that oath!”
“Well, to begin with, he didn’t take a blood oath. Those were just empty words and-”
“Have you ever seen,” Irma interjected, “Darnassian spies, or anyone else for that matter, swear an oath to their enemy?”
Both girls were well aware that the stranger might be a man of honor, but Derek wasn’t as optimistic. To him, all Darnassians were dirty animals. Their argument was interrupted when the horses halted at the gates of a small building. All the local buildings were exactly the same, made of gray stone with blue-tiled roofs. The only thing different about this one was the golden coat of arms hanging over the porch. It depicted a bunch of herbs and the ancient hieroglyph for ‘life’.
“We’ve made it,” Alea breathed out.
Chapter 538
Several doctors and a healer immediately came out onto the porch. The difference between the two was that doctors weren’t strong cultivators — most of them were only at the Transformation of the New Soul stage — while the healer was a Spirit Knight. He was an old man dressed in very expensive scarlet clothes. His long, gray hair, which reached almost to his ankles, had been woven into a tight braid decorated with numerous metal rings.
“Honorable disciples.” The healer nodded at them. In the hierarchy of cultivators, despite their difference in social status, he held a higher rank. “The guards told us that you had a wounded man with you who required urgent care.”
“You’re right — urgent care!” Derek, who liked healers just a little bit more than he did Darnassians, shouted.
“Of course.” The old man smiled wryly. “Carry him inside. I’ll do whatever I can to help him.”
“You’ll ensure he’s all healed up by nightfall,” Derek growled. “I, Derek Le Bria, son of Baron Bria, the Lord of these lands, order you to do so!”
The old man’s eyes flashed with an evil gleam. This time, instead of nodding, he bowed low, not wishing to anger someone as powerful and influential as Derek.
The doctors, who were all young boys and girls, picked up the stretcher and carried it into the building. The trio followed after them. They breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped out of the midday heat and into the coolness of the interior. However, their relief was short-lived — they soon started coughing and wincing. The pungent smell of dried blood, medicine, pain, and despair filled their nostrils.
“This past week has been a stressful one,” the healer said as he opened the doors to the medical wing.
The trio froze. Their school’s Mentors and Masters had told them that the situation at the border was tense and that the two Empires hadn’t known such tension since time immemorial, but they could’ve never imagined it was this bad.
In the huge hall, the ceiling of which was about thirty feet high, bodies lay everywhere. Bunk beds with eight or more beds stacked atop one another were filled to the brim. One look at all the wounded was enough for them to realize that the war had already come to this region.
“Mommy…”
“My love, don’t die…”
“It hurts! It hurts so bad!”
“I want a drink before I die…”
“Damn it…”
“Aaaaaah! No more! Please…”
- Writer
