He did not rush. First, fanned his spiritual soul outward, casting an invisible net of awareness that sifted every whisper of movement. Only then did step forward, one blur of golden light into the depths of Darkwind Gorge.

Visibility plunged to barely nine meters, beyond that, the forest dissolved into formless shadow and crooked outlines of trees.

From every direction came the howls of demon beasts, some low as thunder, others shrill as razors, laced with half-heard murmurs, as though a legion of vengeful spirits watched from the darkness. Jared slid through the timber on Blazing Stride.

When a dry branch cracked beneath him, the sound was lost In the greater cacophony a heartbeat later. His eyes, sharp as a hunting hawk’s, missed nothing, not the twitch of a leaf, nor the quiver of shadow where no wind blew.

A tremor of spiritual energy brushed his senses. He vaulted into the crown of an ancient tree and peered through the leaves. Below, a rough encampment sat wedged In a narrow valley.

Scores of black-robed Malevolent Path Hall cultivators drilled in tight ranks, swinging bone-white blades carved from demon beast remains. Every slash hissed with black energy.

Their faces were masks of feral delight; bloodthirsty eyes glittered under the hoods while coils of demonic energy wrapped their bodies like living smoke. Obviously, they had Malevolent Path Hall‘s Demonic Cultivation.