Jared did not join the pursuit. Instead, stood before Sarpa’s twitching torso, two fingers glowing with concentrated marked aura. He drove that aura into the corpse’s elixir field as delicately as a surgeon slipping a scalpel beneath skin. A moment later, withdrew, a faint filament of gold spiraling around his fingertip.

“Found it…” said, voice low but unerringly certain. That glimmer was the unique spiritual aura of the Flaxseed clan, tangible proof that Sarpa had once plundered their magical items.

“Mr. Flaxseed,” Jared called without turning. “Your clan members’ treasures are almost certainly locked away inside Venom Palace.”

Flaxseed’s fingers, still clutching a charm, trembled as closed them into a fist.

“My ancestors’ items…” whispered hoarsely. “I must retrieve them.” Together, the trio strode across a carpet of cooling bodies toward the bone-white silhouette of Venom Palace.

Every wisp of poisonous miasma recoiled from Jared’s marked aura, parting as though some invisible torch were clearing a path. Even the venomous parasites hiding in the darkness burrowed deep into the soil, unwilling to risk his shadow.

The palace gate had been fashioned from the skull of a giant beast. Desiccated human skins, long drained of color, dangled from its fangs and fluttered in the wind like obscene banners.