“Are you sure?” asked Jason, his tone level as he stared up at the detailed map of the continent that he’d created with a quick spiritual arrayment. “It doesn’t make sense that there’d be so many of them out here.” Manipulating the map with his fingers as if it were a large touch screen, he zoomed in on the kingdom of Hauss, which resided within the massive valley that cut a significant sliver through the southern fringes of the Dragon’s Tail.
He was seated at a large table that he’d set up out front of his tent, accompanied by Sersa and a few others.
“From what the disciple of the Ashen Domains told me,” said a young man with bright blue eyes and wavy, hand-length hair the colour of clean hay, “there’re about twelve thousand of them.”
Jason crossed his arms, pensive. “There shouldn’t be that many still out here. It’s been over a week since they started to pull back to the highlands in the west.”
A young, brown-haired woman with absent eyes and a big bust spoke up while touching a finger to her bottom lip. “Perhaps they’re about to launch a large offensive, in which case that force is likely a distraction.”
This might be a bit difficult, he thought as he recalled the powerful auras that he had sensed within the nearby city of Calmer. If it’s the Genesis stage, they’ve got as many people at that level as we do. And then there’re those three. He was almost positive that a great elder of the Bloodhand Sect was currently residing within the city in question, for a cultivation of the sixth level of Genesis was still out of reach for the surviving disciples that had taken part in the Acquisition of Hauss. Hundreds of thousands of sick-minded youths had died within these lands, though those that remained were far stronger than they had been in the initial days of the invasion. That stood to reason considering that over six million Haussians had been refined by their forces, a conservative estimate.
Jason turned to Havel, the young man that had just spoken. “Which one of those guys was part of the third wave?”
Havel followed his gaze to the fourteen other tents that had been pitched at the centre of a small clearing that sat tucked away within a forest of ordinary-sized pine trees. Most of the surrounding land was sloping and uneven, with much of it being open countryside. Luckily there had already been a camp set up in this forest when he and his group had fled there, not to mention thirty fresh recruits.
“The youngest one. I took the liberty of questioning her earlier, but she genuinely didn’t seem to know anything more than what we’ve already found out.”
Former disciples sat gathered around their respective campfires, all of them wary of one another and all of them in sour spirits. The atmosphere was grim and silent for most of those gathered, though a few were enjoying some drinks amidst muffled conversations with companions that they had known before their enslavement. Dressed in dark black robes with silver trim, most of the youths were exhausted from the harsh battle that they had suffered through just hours before. Their sombreness made sense considering that more than half of their little force had been killed today, the largest casualty count yet.
Jason suppressed his displeasure as he spied a girl no older than fourteen sitting quietly atop a fallen log along the fringes of their camp, her eyes wet with anger and dejection. Even though the disciples of the Bloodhand Sect had been raised to uphold perverted worldviews, he still felt guilty about forcing such young people to fight to the death on his behalf on a daily basis, despite the fact that at this point in the Acquisition he had killed tens of thousands of disciples with his own hands.
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Not that they didn’t deserve it.
“What do you want to do, Jason?”
He met Sersa’s sharp gaze from across the food-covered table and pointed at the map, singling out the city that was closest to Calmer. “We go there once we recover. It’s the only city in the area that isn’t deserted, so I bet the war band in Calmer is going to head there next.”
“You think it’s a good idea to fight that many people with just us?”
“If things get too crazy then we can always escape, so I could care less. Besides, if we can refine the leaders of that war band then I bet we’ll both be able to make another breakthrough.” Aside from the suspected great elder, there were two people within the city that were at the fourth level of Genesis along with many disciples that had also reached that stage after refining countless thousands of people just as he had done.
Angelica gave him a hesitant stare that he knew was meant to manipulate. “You would just abandon us, Master?”
“Honestly, most of you.”
“But not all of us?”
“Not that it matters to you guys.” Everyone at the table aside from him had reached the Genesis stage in recent weeks, Sersa being the strongest at the fourth level and Angelica being the weakest at the second. Unlike the invading disciples that mostly refined civilians and militiamen, the ones that he and his company refined were all powerful cultivators with large amounts of energy within their dantians. “If you’re about to die and think you have no chance of winning, feel free to flee back here.” Waving a hand at the others that filled their little camp, he said, “They’re disposable. You guys, not so much.”
“I’m glad to hear that you need us, Master.”
Brud began to sulk where he sat off to the side of the table, as he did whenever his childhood friend referred to Jason as he’d instructed the other members of his group to. His face appeared dark beneath the dim lighting of several nearby campfires along with that given off by the conjured map, unhappy about Angelica’s obvious attraction to Jason but also unable to do a thing about it. Staring off into the forest with his small, beady eyes, he took a long swig from his cup and continued to frown in silence.
“War bands don’t usually travel as one big group,” said Sersa, brushing fluid strands of blondish-tawny hair from her face and then pointing at the smaller towns that were recorded on the map. “They’ll likely split into several smaller bands, which means there’s a strong chance that they’ll target these four towns.”
“Good idea,” said Jason, catching on to her point. “It’ll be a lot easier to target those smaller groups. You weren’t a deacon for nothing, huh?”
“I’m just using common sense.”
“Anyway. Havel, send a few people to scout the city. Tell them to return here if they notice any movements.”
“Yes…Master.”
As the other youth walked away, Sersa gave him an expectant look. “Jason. You’re not going to go back on your word, are you?”
Putting down his cup and leaving behind an empty plate, he stood up from his seat and nodded toward the forest. “Of course not.” Motioning with his hand, he said, “Ladies first.”
Sersa seemed annoyed at his comment if anything, though she stood up after taking a deliberately long sip of ale and then turned to a slim girl with long, tawny hair that was much darker than hers. This was the personal assistant that she’d picked up during her days as the deacon to the man named Marcus, a former Great Elder of the sect.
“Keep an eye on things here while we’re gone.” Raising her voice, she addressed everyone at the camp with short but forceful words. “Jason and I will be back in a couple of hours. Renay will be in charge until then, so be sure to follow her commands. Those who don’t, well, I’m sure you know what’ll happen.”
He followed Sersa off into the lightless forest, the night almost completely engulfed in darkness beneath the upper canopy and the overcast sky above. They found their way to another clearing that was only about a kilometre away from the one where they had set up camp, at which point Sersa stopped running and turned around to stare at him with her alluring hazel eyes.
“I’ve taught you all the martial skills I know, so it’s only fair that you teach me the Life-Severing Spear.”
“Here,” he said, taking out a martial skill manual that he’d made for the technique in question. “I’ve written about it as upfront as possible. I hope it makes sense to you.” He held it out for her to grab, though she merely crossed her arms in an unsatisfied manner.