A storm of sand howled like a rabid beast, sweeping across an endless expanse of barren earth that vanished into a slate-gray horizon.
Through that hostile void, Jared and Flaxseed pressed on without hesitation, eyes fixed on the jagged peaks clawing at the northwest sky.
"Jared, you really think the Sixth Hall is tucked inside those mountains?" Flaxseed asked, sand clinging to his beard as his brows knitted in doubt.
Jared gave a subtle nod, his voice steady and sure. "It should be true. In his situation, Lord Eastshire was a fish in a barrel, hardly bold enough to lie. From the way he panicked, and then tried so desperately to hide it, you can tell he's nothing more than a marionette. Whatever truth we're after, it's tucked away inside Sixth Hall."
"That's perfect!" Flaxseed's eyes flared with feral glee. "The moment we locate Sixth Hall, I swear I'm going to make those butchers pay. Harvesting cultivators' very souls, there's no punishment savage enough. I won't rest until every last piece of them is scattered to the winds!"
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