“Divine-soul possession?” Dioz’s pupils shrank beneath the hood; the nine soul banners quaked violently. “Could he be a descendant of some ancient cultivator?”
“Reports say the soul claims to hail from the Ninth Heaven.”
“The Ninth Heaven?”
He shot to his feet. Black mist raged from him, and the blood pool beneath the floor heaved like a storm-tossed sea. “No wonder the Nether Duo died so miserably—someone from the Ninth Heaven had meddled!”
The Underworld Shadow Guards turned ashen, flattening themselves against the floor.
Never had they seen Dioz lose composure; the words “Ninth Heaven” carried a terror all their own.
Dioz drew a long breath, beating back his shock.
He seated himself again, fingers drumming the desk. “Someone from the Ninth Heaven... Hmph. Who cares if that divine soul is from the Ninth Heaven—kill our people, and they pay in blood.”
merge “We fear no one, not even a living cultivator from the Ninth Heaven, let alone just his divine soul!”
That declaration laid bare the Hall’s confidence: they would challenge even a cultivator from the Ninth Heaven.
After all, without formidable strength, they could never hope to seize Skyfall Grotto and defend it.
“Grand Elder Dioz, Jared is convalescing in the Seventh Hall, and Mr. Saleto seems inclined to shield him...”
“The Seventh Hall?” Dioz sneered. The screaming faces on the banners keened in harmony. “A self-proclaimed celestial clan—just a fallen branch of the Celestial Palace—dares meddle in my affairs? Pass my order: summon the Eight Shadow Pavilion Devotees and the Twelve Blood Guards. I shall visit the Seventh Hall in person.”
He had just dismissed not only the Celestial Palace, but the entire celestial clan.
“Wh-what?” the stooped elder blurted, horrified. “Grand Elder Dioz, you will go yourself?”
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