The Skywolf Tribe was located in the northern part of the Nether Mountain Range, spread across a long stretch of the Wastnds.


    There were no city walls here. No pce, either.


    There were only tents and houses made from animal hide, scattered across the in like a field of white mushrooms.


    The beast race had never cared for luxury. Their buildings were simple and practical.


    But simple didn''t mean weak.


    The Skywolf Tribe had stood in the Fifteenth Firmament for tens of thousands of years, and what held them up had never been city walls. It was strength.


    Jared and Gwendolyn came down in front of the Skywolf Tribe''s camp.


    Several beast-race warriors came forward to meet them, gripping bone axes and long spears as they watched the two of them with open caution.


    "Who are you?"


    "Jared. I''m here to see your Chieftain."


    The expressions on the beast-race warriors'' faces changed at the same time.


    Over thest two days, Jared''s name had spread through the Fifteenth Firmament like wildfire.


    A single punch in the Pyre Chasm had badly wounded Cedric Gilt. One move on Thunderpeak had killed Magnus Storme.


    Those stories had already reached the Skywolf Tribe.


    "Y-You... please wait here." One of the beast-race warriors turned and ran into the camp.


    A short whileter, a heavily built beast-race giant came striding out from inside the camp.


    A wolfskin cloak hung from his shoulders, and three blood-colored scars were carved across his face.


    He was one of the Skywolf Tribe''s best-known war generals-Wolf-Fang.


    "Fellow Adept Jared!" Wolf-Fang called out as he strode over and cupped his fists in greeting. "Long time no see! The Chieftain heard you''d arrived, so he specially sent me to wee you in."


    Jared returned the salute with a cupped-fist bow. "Thank you for the trouble."


    Wolf-Fang led Jared and Gwendolyn through the camp and headed for the massive tent at the very center.


    Along the way, beast-race warriors kept stopping where they stood to look at Jared.


    Their eyes carried a little of everything at once-wariness, curiosity, and that restless edge that made it clear some of them wanted to test themselves against him.


    "Fellow adept Jared, you really killed Magnus Storme?" Wolf-Fang asked out of nowhere.


    "Mm."


    Wolf-Fang''s eyes lit up. "Good! I couldn''t stand that old bastard a long time ago. Just because the Tribunal Venerable backed him, he strutted around on Skywolf Tribe turf like he owned the ce. If the Chieftain hadn''t stopped me, I''d have fought him already!"


    Jared only smiled and said nothing.


    With Wolf-Fang''s strength, Magnus Storme probably would have put him down in a single move.


    The tent in the center was huge, big enough to hold a hundred people.


    The door p was made from beast hide, and embroidered across it was an


    enormous golden wolf head—the Skywolf Tribe''s totem.


    Wolf-Fang lifted the p. "Fellow adept Jared, after you."


    Jared stepped into the tent.


    The inside was arranged simply.


    A thick carpet of animal hides covered the ground, and in the middle sat a huge


    brazier, packed with a roaring fire.


    An old man sat behind the brazier.


    His hair had gone white, and his face showed his age, but his frame was still powerfully built.


    His eyes were a deep brown, and in his pupils it looked as though fire was burning.


    A faint bloodline power coiled around him.


    It stayed tightly reined in, but the pressure of it still filled the space.


    His cultivation was at True Immortal Realm Level Eight.


    The Chieftain of Skywolf Tribe-Hadrian Wolfhowe.


    Jared stopped in front of the brazier and raised his hands in salute.


    "Chieftain Wolfhowe, I''ve heard your name for a long time."


    Wolfhowe looked at him and said nothing for a moment.


    Then Hadrian smiled.


    It was an open, easy smile, broad as the wind sweeping across the Wastnds.


    "Jared, you''re younger than I expected."


    He rose to his feet, walked up to Jared, and looked him over from top to bottom.


    "Top Level High Immortal Realm Level Eight. And you killed Magnus Storme, a True Immortal Realm Level Seven, in one move. Kid, you''ve got skill."


    Jared smiled. "I got lucky."


    Hadrian threw his head back andughed. "Lucky? Magnus Storme trained in thunder arts for thousands of years, and you''re saying luck was enough to kill him? Cut the modest act."


    He turned and walked back to his seat, then motioned for Jared to sit.


    "Go on. What did youe to me for?"


    Jared didn''t sit.


    He stayed where he was and looked at Hadrian. "I came for the Soulkindling me."


    The tent went still.


    Wolf-Fang''s face changed on the spot.


    The smile on Hadrian''s face locked in ce.


    "The Soulkindling me is the Skywolf Tribe''s sacred treasure," Hadrian said, his voice dropping low. "You think you can juste take it because you said so?"


    Jared looked back at him. When he spoke, his voice stayed even.


    "I know. That''s why I''m willing to trade for it."


    "Trade what?"


    "What do you want?"


    Hadrian fell silent for a moment, then let out a long breath.


    "Jared, it''s not that I won''t give it to you. The Soulkindling me... can''t be moved right now."


    Jared''s brow drew in slightly. "Why?"


    Hadrian rose, walked to the back of the tent, and pulled aside a hanging curtain.


    "Come with me."


    Behind the curtain was the inner tent.


    It was much smaller than the main tent outside, but everything in it had been


    arranged with far more care.


    A stone bed sat in the middle of the tent.


    An old many on it.


    He looked even older than Hadrian.


    His hair had gonepletely white, and deep wrinkles covered his face, crumpling


    it like a sheet of paper that had been kneaded and crushed.


    His eyes were shut.


    His breathing was so faint it was almost impossible to detect.


    A thinyer of pale golden me drifted around him.


    That was the Soulkindling me.


    The me was notrge. It was only about the size of a fist, floating above the old


    man''s chest and turning slowly in ce.


    It was golden, but not the harsh kind that stabbed at the eyes.


    This was a warm, gentle gold, like thest light of sunset.


    "That''s my father."


    Hadrian''s voice dropped low, rough at the edges. The former Chieftain of the Skywolf Tribe. Three hundred years ago, he was gravely wounded in a battle against the Celestial Tribunal. His spin was damaged and he''s never woken up since. The Soulkindling me can nourish the spirit. For thest three hundred years, it''s the only thing that''s kept my father hanging on to thisst breath."


    He looked at Jared.


    There was only appeal left in his eyes.


    "Jared, if I take away the Soulkindling me, my father will suffer utter soul-ruin on


    the spot. It''s not that I won''t give it to you. It''s that... I can''t."


    Jared said nothing for a moment.


    Then he walked to the stone bed and lowered his gaze to the old man lying there.


    He could tell the old man''s spirit really was terribly weak.


    So weak it could scatter at any moment.


    The Soulkindling me''s golden radiance wrapped around his spirit like a thin


    protective film, holding his soul and sense inside his body.


    "Is there any other way?" Jared asked.


    Something lit in Hadrian''s eyes.


    "There is. The old tome records an immortal herb called soulbind herb. It can be refined into a sense-gathering pill. If my father can take a sense-gathering pill, his spirit can be restored, and he wont need the Soulkindling me to nourish it anymore."


    "Where is the soulbind herb?" Jared asked.


    Hadrian''s expression turned heavy.


    "On the Celestial Tribunal''s territory. There''s a gorge called Soul Abyss, and all


    kinds of spiritual nts grow throughout it."


    "The soulbind herb grows at the very bottom of Soul Abyss. The celestials keep that ce under heavy guard. Cultivators below the fourth tier of the True Immortal Realm can''t even get in."


    "And even if they do get inside, getting the soulbind herb out is another matter. The


    celestials set wards all over the ce, and there are guardian spirit beasts too."


    "And on top of that..." He paused. "Even if we got the soulbind herb, no one in the Skywolf Tribe could turn it into a sense-gathering pill. Pill refinement takes frighteningly high skill, and the beast race... we''re not good at that."


    Jared went quiet for a moment.


    "I''ll go get it."


    Hadrian froze. "What?"


    "I''ll go get the soulbind herb," Jared said. "Then I''ll make it into a sense-gathering


    pill. I can handle pill refinement."


    He had the Verdant Crucible on him, enough by itself to refine healing elixirs. And


    Jared''s skill in pill refinement was already far from ordinary.


    Hadrian''s eyes flew wide. "Jared, that''s the Celestial Tribunal''s


    territory! You killed Magnus Storme The Tribunal would love nothing


    more than to tear you to pione


    you walk into their domain now, aren''t you just throwing yourself into the trap?"


    Jared smiled. "That''s exactly why they won''t expect me to go."


    He turned and looked at the old man on the stone bed.


    "The Soulkindling me decides whether tens of thousands of souls from the Ghost


    n live or die. I can''t stay away just because I don''t want to die."


    Hadrian looked at him and said nothing for a long while.


    Then he bent deeply at the waist.


    "Jared, if you can save my father, I''ll ce the Soulkindling me in your hands


    myself. And that''s not all. The Skywolf Tribe will owe you a life. From this day on,


    your business is the Skywolf Tribe''s business."


    Jared reached out and stopped him. "There''s no need for that. Just tell me where


    Soul Abyss is."


    Hadrian nodded and gave Jared Soul Abyss''s location.


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