Rivers of the Night

Macie's eyes widened when she got the news.

It was like millions of tiny ants were gnawing at her heart.

They were close? They had really been that close? If they had just…

She bent over, placing her palms on her knees as though she couldn't get enough air. The pain aching and pulling at her chest threatened to end her life, a light flashing before her eyes again and again.

Patriarch Nightingale hurried to help her up. It took a long while before they learned what had happened, and all of their expressions collectively became solemn.

Not long ago, the guards at a gate entrance had reported odd movement. The problem was that it wasn't a main entrance—it was a servant entrance.

Any large organization like this one would have several main entrances, on top of several smaller entrances. These smaller entrances would be used to hide certain things or move resources in and out by the load.

The sheer amount of food a Sect of this size would need, for example, required constant replenishing. While the lesser disciples might go out to hunt for their own meat, did these elders have the time to waste their cultivation opportunities on such trivial things? Of course not.

As such, there were servant entrances and things of the like.

In the direction Theron had disappeared toward, there was one main entrance, one of the four that marked the south of the Sect. However, deviated to the left of it, there was another, smaller gate that servants frequented.

It was actually quite ridiculous. When Theron had taken that gate, he had noted how wide and expansive those roads were—wider than any he had seen. He had been taken aback by the grandeur.

But to the Nightingale Sect, those were just large paved roads left to allow carts to seamlessly travel in and out without issue. This was why there were no decorations, grand arrays, or things of the like.

These elders had the matters of servants so far from their minds that they didn't even remember the existence of these entrances. But that was also by design as well.

The path that Theron had taken made it seem obvious that he would be taking the main entrance out, before he deviated to the side.

These servant entrances were well hidden, but they weren't secrets. They appeared on any one of the Sect maps that Theron had stolen and studied.

The worst part of it all—and the reason why Grand Elder Macie was practically having a panic attack—was because their speed had been so fast that they reached the main gate mere minutes after Theron left through the servant gate. No, it hadn't even been a full two minutes.

If they had received this message on time, making it to the servant entrance from that location would have taken seconds at worst. Then, with their speed and their ability to fly, catching up to Theron wouldn't be impossible.

But instead, they had returned. And then they stood around here waiting for Elder Dezend to finish observing and studying the grave. By now, the difficulty in tracking down Theron had become orders of magnitude more difficult.

The expressions of the elders all became incomparably gloomy.

It felt like they were continuously being played again and again. They could practically see the sneering face of Theron, and because they had been convinced by the Patriarch that they were more than likely dealing with a young Chosen, it was even more humiliating.

Once again, though, it was Patriarch Nightingale who was the first to recover.

Taking a breath, he exhaled.

"Trigger Martial Law. We will be taking over the planet. Shut off all travel and monitor the skies. I don't want a single ship moving in or out of our planetary space."

"Patriarch, this isn't good. This timing is a bit…" the Second Elder of the Nightingale Sect couldn't help but interject.

"Without Sadie, our chances of performing well in the trial are minimal. Rather than humiliate ourselves with inferior disciples, we can take this as an opportunity. If we can succeed, the rewards we will receive from the Hall of Ice and Heart will far surpass it."

The other elders looked toward one another. It seemed that though he didn't show it, Patriarch Nightingale was also enraged by all of this.

He had always been difficult to read, whether in temperament or even origins. He had looked the same for as long as they could remember, and many of the current elders had been young disciples while he was still Patriarch.

Many speculated that the length of his life was due to some rare immortal elixir he had managed to drink as a youth, because while his strength was superior to their own, if it was as exaggerated as the length of his life had been, then the Nightingale Sect would be the overlord of this region instead of the Hall of Ice and Heart.

Still, there was one thing they did know about this Patriarch—it was best not to get on his bad side.

He was decisive and cold, ruthless even when it came to his own disciples and fellow elders.

Now that he had set his sights on Theron, and so many of his potential benefits had been cut off by the latter's actions, he wouldn't rest until he had the boy's head on a platter.

"Elder Dezend, we will have to trouble you again. There might be clues the Chosen has left."

"Of course." Elder Dezend nodded.

Theron didn't let up, pushing his body to the very limits. He didn't sense anyone coming after him, but given the power of the people of this world, he didn't dare to underestimate anything.

For all he knew, there was some unheard-of Time Mancer who could wave a hand and bring him reeling back to the entrance.

All he could do was his best.

But his best was enough to drive even powerhouses crazy. That much he knew.

His mind flickered with the images of various maps he had found before he made a decision and pivoted once again.