Amid the clatter of rapid hooves, seven or eight riders on Dragon Scale Horses swept through the gates of Valley City like a whirlwind, then galloped off toward the southeast.
"What bastard is so arrogant he doesn't even watch where he's going?" A sword-wielding gate guard cursed in irritation, his face stinging from the gale kicked up by the passing Dragon Scale Horses.
Valley City in the Eastern Exile Lands never closed its gates except under extraordinary circumstances.
His companion signaled with his eyes to stop the cursing, then leaned in and whispered, "Didn't you see? The one leading them is Lord Jacob. Watch your mouth — someone might report what you just said!"
Upon learning that the rider was a member of the Eastern Exile Lands' Lord's Council, the guard who had spoken first clamped his mouth shut and glanced around nervously, worried that someone with ill intent might remember his careless complaint. At best, he'd receive a vicious beating; at worst, he'd be knocked unconscious and dumped in the forest.
After waiting a few dozen seconds, he asked in puzzlement, "What happened in Valley City? Why was Lord Jacob in such a desperate hurry?"
His companion, the one who had stopped him from cursing Jacob, whispered in a tone that mixed fear with excitement, "Word is that Lord Jacob's son, young Master Warren, was killed inside his own villa. His guardian knight, his mage, and every last one of his swordsmen — not one survived!"
"What?! Warren — I mean, young Master Warren was killed?! Who has that kind of nerve? Aren't they afraid of Lord Jacob's retaliation?!" Warren was notorious throughout the Eastern Exile Lands, and the guard felt a secret thrill of satisfaction — he nearly cheered out loud. But he had just slipped up moments ago, so he caught himself in time and swallowed the words. Then sheer astonishment rose from the depths of his heart. It had been who knows how many years since anything of this magnitude had happened in the Eastern Exile Lands. Someone had actually dared to challenge a lord's authority — and kill his only son! This was an irreconcilable blood feud!
His companion was well-informed and enjoyed showing off that particular talent. Seeing the other gate guards gathering around out of curiosity, he continued with barely contained excitement, "All the slaves locked up in young Master Warren's villa have disappeared! Apparently, Warren angered the wrong person while kidnapping people, and a powerful figure came knocking and slaughtered every last one of them. Tsk tsk. Without a grievance that deep, who would strike with such ruthlessness?"
The guard who had spoken first turned to gaze down the street where Jacob and his entourage had disappeared, then sighed quietly. "Lord Jacob has no other son besides young Master Warren. He'll definitely not let this grudge go. Everyone, be careful for a while. Don't become the target of his rage."
"Exactly. Apparently it happened in the afternoon, but the Magic Circle's barrier muffled all the noise, so it wasn't discovered until evening. With that much of a head start, the killer is certainly long gone by now — Lord Jacob will have a hard time catching him. With his Werewolf Bloodline, under such a devastating blow, I'm afraid he won't be able to keep his wits about him. Sigh — more people in the Eastern Exile Lands are going to die for nothing." The well-informed guard shook his head with a touch of fear. Fortunately, they were guards under Valley City's jurisdiction. As long as they didn't go looking for death themselves, Jacob wouldn't direct his wrath at them — that would be tantamount to spurning the Nine City Lords.
Jacob was a fourth-rank Knight with the Werewolf Bloodline. Among those of the same rank, his speed, strength, agility, claw damage, personal defense, and recovery rate were all exceptional. He also possessed abilities such as Frenzy, Dark Shadow Strike, Roaring Terror, and Dark Weakening Aura — making his bloodline truly formidable. His weaknesses were the lack of any ranged supernatural attack and the inability to maintain his sanity under moonlight, when he would transform into an actual great wolf.
…………
Inside the garden villa's sitting room.
Jacob stared at the mounds of flesh and blood on the floor, his eyes bulging wide, veins of crimson spreading across the whites until they were stained a deep, bloody red. His son — the son he had raised for nearly thirty years — reduced to this heap of torn meat and blood? He could see viscera, fingers, pieces of limbs scattered everywhere!
His fists clenched so tight that long, grayish-white hairs pushed through the gaps in his black gauntlets.
His keen nose twitched. Jacob spoke in a tone so suppressed it was like the calm before a Storm: "The scent of blood isn't just Warren's. There's someone else's too. That damnable bastard — he mixed their flesh and blood together so they can't be separated."
"So it seems the best we can do for young Master Warren is salvage whatever intact parts we can find for burial." The knights following Jacob thought to themselves, then made excuses about checking for clues and moved about the sitting room — none of them dared face Jacob's wrath directly.
"Mr. Bince, please use your magic to examine this place and see if you can find any clues." Grayish-white hairs were sprouting across Jacob's face, as if he could barely contain his emotions. But to obtain information about his enemy, he forced down the murderous ** that surged within him — the ** to tear apart every humanoid creature he laid eyes on. "Once I know who you are, no matter the cost, I will make you kneel before Warren's coffin — kneel there for eternity! Even if your corpse has already turned to bone!"
A mid-tier mage was inherently qualified to serve as a lord of the Eastern Exile Lands, or as an advisor to the Nine City Lords. As such, Jacob, despite being a fourth-rank Great Knight, had neither the standing nor the means to employ a mid-tier mage. His only magical advisor was Bince, a Second Circle mage, along with Bince's apprentice. Given the unpredictable and uncanny nature of Arcane Magic, even a Great Knight in the dangerous Eastern Exile Lands would suffer greatly without a magical advisor at their side!
Bince produced a crystal ball from his pocket, set it into the tip of his black magic staff, and began casting Divination.
The crystal ball turned pitch black, as though it were the night sky, with stars tracing out their unique trajectories.
"Divination isn't giving me any readings. It seems the culprit is a mage skilled in the Star Reading school. And the spell he used to kill young Master Warren was a Fireball — preliminary assessment places it at Third Circle." Bince had received no useful feedback from the Divination, but he made his judgment based on experience.
Jacob, his eyes blazing red, pointed at the half-destroyed bar counter — blown to smithereens — and at the pools of flesh and blood. "An explosive spell with this kind of power is only Third Circle?!" Growing increasingly agitated, he clearly had little faith in Bince's assessment.