Jhaelyn’s willow eyebrows shot up, but Jared lifted a hand to stop before could speak.

He stepped forward, looking at the masked man as though at a speck of dust on the road. “Move…”

“Move?” The masked man acted as if had heard the greatest joke in the world. “Kid, do you know who I am? I‘m Wyler, young sect leader of Black Fiend Sect! Kneel, knock your head on the ground three times, leave those two beauties behind, and maybe I’ll let you keep your corpse in one piece!”

The disciples around Wyler erupted in raucous laughter, spitting out vulgarities.

Everett tugged nervously at Jared’s sleeve, his face bloodless. “Mr. Chance, perhaps we should go around them. Black Fiend Sect…”

“Around them?” Jared interrupted, the corner of his mouth lifting in an icy arc. “When I walk, I never yield the path.”

As the last word left his lips, didn’t even draw a sword. He merely flicked a finger.