Wynter would have to step in if Dalton couldn't handle the Sablemare.
Though Wynter didn't entirely believe he was incapable, she still moved slightly, shielding Dalton behind her. Noticing her action, the coldness in Dalton's expression lessened.
But first, she needed to figure out what kind of malevolent spirit or demon they were dealing with. "What is it? You should know."
Otherwise, he wouldn't have advised her not to tamper with the sealing talismans.
Dalton held the parasol, his black hair loose. Though he claimed he couldn't handle the Sablemare, there was no fear on his face. Instead, he looked lazily confident, his beauty tinged with a demonic presence. "A malevolent spirit that makes people dream. The books said it's called the Sablemare."
What "books"? He clearly knew.
Wynter had figured out Dalton's way of speaking. When he tilted his head, there was an air of casualness that wasn't there in the version of him that was outside the formation.
She couldn't help but smile, her eyes curving. "That sounds terrifying."
"It is terrifying. So, you'll have to protect me," Dalton said with a smile, his expression genuinely relaxed now and his tone natural.
"I will," Wynter nodded, playing along with his persona.
Dealing with the Sablemare was both simple and difficult. The key was to prevent it from entering anyone's dreams.
"Mr. Winston, remember to stay awake, no matter what," she said to "Logan", knowing his constitution made him an easy target.
"Logan's" eyes lit up at her concern. "Got it!"
Dalton glanced over but said nothing.
In the meantime, Carlton wasn't entirely useless. Upon hearing it was the Sablemare, he didn't hesitate to pull out an artifact his sage had given him—the Somnielock.
As the Somnielock rang, the Sablemare's expression twisted in pain. It covered its ears, black mist seeping from its features. It stopped advancing, clearly wary of the artifact.
"Mt. Lunther's dogs. I knew it!" The Sablemare's hatred for Mt. Lunther turned its eyes red as it glared at the Somnilock.
Carlton rang it again, shouting to Mt. Lunther's apprentices, "Don't worry about the others. Run!"
Using cultivators from other sects as a shield was a common tactic for Mt. Lunther.
But Wynter wasn't naive. As soon as the bell rang, she grabbed both Dalton and "Logan", darting eastward. She had already planned to act alone, and this was the perfect opportunity. No one would use her as a decoy.
As for the three or four cultivators from other sects, no one expected Jaylene to push them down to delay the Sablemare.
This surprised even Wynter. The Somnilock should have bought enough time. She had released the Sablemare believing that nothing would go wrong.
Wynter turned back after seeing Jaylene's actions. She couldn't let anyone die because of her decision to break the formation.
Of course, no one would have been hurt if Jaylene hadn't pushed those people.
Dalton didn't expect Wynter to turn back. When he looked down, the area was already shrouded in black mist.
The few who had escaped safely wore varied expressions, especially when looking at Jaylene.
They were all from Mt. Lunther except for Dalton. They couldn't say much, but they had seen Jaylene's actions—that push had been too malicious.
Jaylene noticed the stares, including Carlton's.
She shrank back, her face filled with grievances, tears welling up instantly. "That's a Sablemare. I'd be dead if I ran any slower. I didn't mean to. I just used too much force."
Carlton knew it was an excuse, but he had to maintain Mt. Lunther's reputation. "Don't worry, Jaylene. No one is blaming you."
The implication was clear. As apprentices from the same sect, this wouldn't be spread.
The apprentices from Mt. Lunther glanced at Dalton, who remained silent, after hearing this.
Dalton was expressionless, indifferent to their conversation. He still held the parasol, but his gaze was fixed on the black mist spreading to the west.
His skin was as fair as snow, and his face remained as stunning as ever—so breathtaking that it was almost impossible to look at directly. However, his features had grown sharper and more defined, making it even harder for others to ignore him.
"Hey, act like you didn't see anything if you want to live."
Knowing Carlton couldn't say much, the other apprentices approached, warning Dalton in a low voice. "We'll get you out, but you'd better explain your owner's actions later."
Dalton's eyes were dark, still focused on the black mist. Hearing those words, he slowly turned to look at the speaker. "What makes you think you can tell me what to do? Mt. Lunther doesn't deserve any golden encounters. It should have fallen long ago."
Dalton's words were icy cold. But precisely because of this, his voice had grown even deeper and more captivating. Even with the hissing of venomous snakes all around, his words rang out with perfect clarity, making all of Mt. Lunther's apprentices freeze for a moment.
Carlton was furious. "What did you say?"
He reached for his sword, but "Logan" stepped forward, shielding Dalton. His voice carried a hint of self-reproach. "Carlton, Jaylene was in the wrong. Her Highness went down to save people, and now you want to attack her servant. Are you trying to silence him?"
"Didn't you hear him? He just cursed Mt. Lunther!" Carlton's eyes burned with rage.
"Logan" lowered his head. "He's just a mortal. Let him talk. Mt. Lunther... doesn't deserve the golden encounter this time."
Carlton couldn't clash with the Winston family, especially since "Logan" was his sage's prized apprentice. But he couldn't help but think that Dalton, a mere servant, had better keep his mouth shut.
Everyone present treated Dalton as a mere mortal. Little did they know that his words carried power.
…
Thunder rolled above Mt. Lunther, and two of the mountain's protective artifacts shattered.
"What's going on?"
Mt. Lunther's elders were in a panic.
"Why is this happening?"
"It's the Sablemare! The Sablemare has escaped, and Mt. Lunther's retribution has come," one elder guessed, his face pale.
Another shook his head. "It can't just be the Sablemare. Our mountain has countless sages' protection—"
Before he could finish, a commotion erupted outside.
"S-Sage!" A disciple rushed in and knelt on the ground. "The Light of the Sage on our mountain's celestial register has gone out!"
Gone out? How was that possible?
The extinguishment of a mountain's Light of the Sage on the celestial register meant that no one from that mountain could ascend to the Sacred Path for a thousand years.
"Are you sure you weren't seeing things?"
"I was so scared earlier," the woman said, pressing her face into his palm. Her voice softened as she lifted her hand, her fingertips lightly tracing the back of his. "Actually, I've always—"
Dalton looked down at her. Her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks. It was too similar—even the way her eyelashes fluttered was identical.
His gaze fell to her earlobe, where a small red mole should have been. But now, it was smooth and unmarked.
"Scared?" he asked calmly, his fingers gently caressing her earlobe.
"Yes. I was trapped in a terrifying place when I fell earlier. There were statues everywhere, and things that were neither human nor ghost," the woman said, looking up with tears in her eyes. "I ran for my life and finally escaped."
"Is that so?" he murmured, his fingers sliding from her earlobe to her neck. "No wonder you're so cold."
The woman stood on her toes, leaning closer. Her light outer robe slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse of her fair skin as she pressed against Dalton's arm. "Then hold me. Warm me up."
Her breath was warm, enough to stir something restless within him.
Dalton obliged, his hand resting on the back of her neck as he leaned in.
The woman's lips parted slightly, like a seductive enchantress. Her appearance seemed perfectly suited for such a pose.
But Dalton's eyes turned icy in an instant. He grabbed her hair, his smile cold and menacing. "You're a good actor. But guess what?"
He continued softly, "That woman would never try to seduce me."
It seemed as if some invisible boundary had been crossed. The youthful innocence had faded from him. His once pristine white robes were gradually soaked in something thick and dark, accentuating his features' breathtaking sharpness.
His figure had changed. Though still youthful, he now exuded the presence of a man. The noble arrogance between his brows did not wane—it burned brighter, laced with the sharp edge of killing intent.
"I despise anyone who dares to impersonate her." As he spoke, his hand had already wrapped around the woman's throat. A mere squeeze, and she would be reduced to nothingness.
In desperation, the woman revealed her true face—it was the Sablemare from before. Its blackened nails trembled, not daring to brush against Dalton's arm.
It had never expected to encounter such a terrifying problem. It couldn't believe Dalton was here, much less in a youthful form. It had been suppressed for too long and hadn't recognized him at first.
The Sablemare trembled, its voice shaking. "M-My lord, I was wrong. I was blind and didn't recognize you. I just wanted revenge on those hypocrites from Mt. Lunther. You should know that I wouldn't have dared to provoke you if I had known it was you, not in a million years!"
It truly hadn't sensed Dalton's presence. If Dalton hadn't deliberately revealed his energy, it would have thought him an ordinary mortal—just an exceptionally handsome one who was easy prey for malevolent spirits like himself.
It didn't understand why Dalton would use such a guise. It could easily cause a misunderstanding.
The Sablemare was filled with regret.
What it didn't know was that Dalton's appearance was his true form, not a borrowed skin.
Dalton tossed the Sablemare aside, holding the parasol with one hand. His voice was low and quiet. "Where is she?"
The Sablemare didn't need to ask to know who he meant. Otherwise, it wouldn't have taken her form. It had seen how close the two were earlier.
"She went east. There's a large formation there. You should know about it. After all, the village is gone."
The Sablemare took a step back, genuinely afraid that Dalton might obliterate it in a fit of anger.
The mention of the formation made Dalton's expression darken, his eyes lowering. Wynter really never made things easy for him.
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