Not every cultivator nearby was in a bad mood. Some took the incident in stride, as it was in line with what they expected from the Spear Saint Mountain Group. The cultivation spots were a lot emptier than they usually were, and since the group was outright denying anyone access, there was little reason to stick around.

  While Nyx would have liked to gauge the mood in the library and talk to other initiates about what had happened exactly, he would much prefer to seek out Rax’Rathos himself. Since the younger demon had refused to yield—refusing to give up after not fighting back—he must have been left in a terrible state. While he doubted that the young master of the Aurelius Vox would be in need of recovery pills, he would still talk to him and offer him some help.

  The Spear Saint Mountain Group had attacked the rival the elder had picked for him. Nyx wanted to compete with Rax’Rathos through his own efforts; if someone messed with the balance of training they received, that would just feel unfair. Sure, Nyx had also fought with them and taken quite some damage, but his fight had been educational. He had learned a lot due to his struggle.

  If he had been assaulted by seven people and beaten mercilessly on a whim? It was doubtful how much he would have gained from such an ordeal.

  Where would a beaten-down Rax’Rathos be? In Sol’s mind, the confidently angry younger demon would likely ingest a recovery pill of the highest grade, courtesy of the Aurelius Vox clan's status, and then await whatever challenger might come to see him—with fury and a barrage of blows. Nyx had little doubt that even a wounded Rax’Rathos could handle most, if not all, members of the Spear Saint Mountain Group in single combat.

  He returned to the most spacious and grand of estates, where he had clashed with the younger demon before. Had the masked girl kept the estate? Nyx had been so absorbed in his cultivation and fights that he had entirely forgotten that he could have also just… visited.

  As he ascended the path towards the estate entrance, he pondered an important question.

  How would she have reacted if he had paid her a visit? They could have discussed their progress together. He would have appreciated her insights since her knowledge was vastly superior to his own. They could have had tea and read together near the fireplace—the chairs inside the estate had looked incredibly comfortable. His thoughts spiraled about the luxury, and he briefly wondered what the other rooms had in store. After all, there was a bath in the middle of the living room.

  Before his thoughts—immediately conjuring a picture of a bathing girl in a white mask—could run rampant, he was interrupted.

  “Halt right there! What are you doing here? This is the Spear Saint Mountain’s property!”

  A pair of spear-wielding initiates barred the entrance to the estate door. Their weapons were no longer wooden quarterstaves but actual spears, with elaborately dangerous blades attached.

  Nyx casually strode closer. Neither of the two were known to him. Their demeanor clearly showed that they cared little about starting a fight in order to defend their property. Interesting.

  His focus skill activated and added a mischievous edge to his thoughts, prompting him to immediately push it down and gently coax the skill to withdraw. While he would have appreciated focus, he would have acted far too confidently through it. It was interesting to see his focus skill pick up on his plan, however, since he was about to mimic one of the Spear Saint Mountain Group’s own tactics that he had observed.

  “Greetings, fellow disciples. I’m just here to deliver a letter for the lady of the estate—” Sol pretended to search his robes, withdrawing a set of clothing and draping it over his arm. He grabbed the still half-filled teapot and closed the distance to the two even more with a strained expression on his face, frantically making searching motions in the folds of his robes.

  The green-skinned demon to his left rammed the spear's shaft audibly into the ground in an effort to make him stop and declared, “The girl you seek no longer resides here. If you have no business with the Spear Saint Mountain, leave!”

  Nyx smiled. So the girl had taken permanent residence here after all.

  He allowed his focus to take root and could immediately feel a wide grin form on his face as he pretended to stumble and empty the contents of the teapot into the face of his adversary. Then he repeated the line some of the Spear Saint Mountain Group loved to use when they harassed others from the spots they intended to claim.

  “Oh, my hand slipped. How clumsy of me! I apologize!”

  While the green-skinned individual had maintained his composure even after being doused in aromatic herbal tea, his red-skinned companion had a shorter temper. His spear was readied and thrust toward Sol’s chest—caught by the inhuman reflexes that his skill provided him with. Not with his bare hands, of course. He had used the spare clothes to catch the spear thrust in front of him and divert it slightly.

  There had been apprehension in the attack. His opponent was not used to the feeling of striking with lethal force.

  Nyx stepped into the attack and let the spear graze past his arm, inflicting a shallow cut, before he cast the spear aside and closed the distance. Distance towards the entrance of the estate, that is, because Sol did not use that opening to strike his opponent, but rather to make a run for ‘safety’ after being assaulted out in the open like this.

  His grin grew wider as the red-skinned demon hurried to the side to adjust his spear defensively. He would make it to the door now!

  Since Sol had been attacked outside, they had broken the rules. If he reached the safety of a home—even if it was for the purpose of claiming it—it would effectively end the fight, resulting in their punishment.

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  Realizing his intent, the green-skinned demon readied his spear to throw. Sol’s focus screamed at him to keep his eyes on the weapon, his muscles tensed with every running step to potentially change direction.

  But the spear throw never came, and Sol threw open the door and entered, almost dashing against the doorframe at full speed because of his focused gaze.

  Another member of the Spear Saint Mountain down!

  He took in the surroundings of a familiar hallway and immediately exited again. There was no value in laying claim to the estate—he wanted to talk to Rax’Rathos first.

  As he exited, he was greeted by a raised spear. Notably, the second demon was already gone. That had been quick.

  His focus still burned at the challenge the lethal spear provided. However, now he would be unable to use the estate entrance as a safety point. And the next home was a fair distance downhill.

  There was doubt in the green-skinned demon’s eyes, mixed with a displeased frown. Good. Maybe he could intimidate his way out of this?

  He strode toward the edge of the spear, bringing it close to his chest, and his opponent stepped back. He was keenly aware that if his spear touched and even slightly injured Nyx’Sol’s skin, he would be the aggressor and given a seven-day punishment should he escape. It was clear that he was calculating it in his head, and the confident stride that Nyx advanced with, along with the mischievous grin he held on his face, gave him pause.

  He was keenly aware that his skill was flooding his mind with confidence and a keen lust for provoking his opponent unnecessarily, so he forced it to the back of his mind as much as he could, forcing himself to drop his smile, stop his advance, and shift his gaze slightly to the right into the empty distance beyond.

  The sudden shift in his demeanor gave his opponent pause, and he glanced over his shoulder in paranoia for just a moment.

  A moment that gave Sol the needed opening.

  His hand struck forward, cutting itself on the spear—deeper than he would have liked—and allowed his skill to take over completely. Every movement, every running step away from his taunted adversary burned with overexertion, somehow retrieving every ounce of strength in his body to spring into action. Instead of running away in a straight line, he shifted his body left and right at random intervals, even if it meant taking an inefficient path.

  If his opponent threw his weapon and missed, then Sol would have a great opening—either separating him from his spear by dashing in the opposite direction or forcing him to give chase without a weapon. Either way, the chase would end immediately.

  The throw never came. Instead, the green-skinned demon had seemingly abandoned the idea halfway through his throwing motion and started chasing him instead.

  Not good.

  Now he would be able to close the distance over time if Sol continued to disguise his movement with sudden changes.

  Sol jumped over the chest-high border wall of the estate in as low a diving motion as he could manage, terrified that the throw might find him here.

  It never came.

  Past the wall, he rolled onto the ground and barely managed to continue his mad dash without falling, as he realized the terrain was quite steep, and ornamental bushes that looked well-groomed threatened to slow his movement.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the green-skinned demon use the wall as a jumping-off point, using his flight to ready a spear throw.

  Smart. Cunningly so.

  Sol had to cut some speed from his run, feeling the strain in his lower legs as he fought against his momentum, then dove right into a pair of bushes where he could have otherwise run unobstructed.

  The spear impacted the empty ground there, and while his opponent cursed, it still meant that he would gain on Sol. When he reclaimed his spear, Sol had barely finished fighting through the greenery—and now his pursuer was nearly in striking distance!

  Luckily, the lower estate was already close. Sol shifted to a straight dash, ignoring the danger of another throw.

  He was immediately grazed by the sharp weapon below his shoulder blades, resulting in a warm trickle down his side and a stinging pain with every step.

  His focus roared with anger and fury, and he felt the overwhelming urge to turn around and bash his opponent’s head in.

  It took all his effort to shove the skill aside. The momentary lapse in concentration made him collide with the incoming wall. The hip-high obstacle hurt, but its height luckily meant that his momentum flipped him right over it. A scramble to his feet and a narrowly dodged spear throw later, he realized that he was at the backside of the estate.

  His breath was ragged, his muscles tense and burning, and his opponent was tightly on his heels.

  Nyx suddenly remembered one of the lessons he had learned from Azrx’Ibahros.

  Feints.

  Surely, they could be applied to running instead of punching as well.

  Nyx shifted his body to the left and briefly brought his foot in that direction—only to pivot and make a mad dash to the right.

  In addition to his convincing feint, the direction was also the shorter one if he wanted to reach the entrance, making his deception even more effective.

  The green-skinned demon cursed audibly as he skidded to a halt, two steps to the left. All his running momentum was gone, and he nearly fell from the quick directional change.

  Sol had increased the distance comfortably.

  Now his opponent only had bad choices remaining.

  Either he could chase after Sol and slowly catch up without his spear—which was likely too slow, given the remaining distance to safety.

  He could reclaim his spear and try for one last throw before Sol rounded the corner—but now from an even greater distance.

  Or he could take the left side and arrive at the door sooner—but that would open a myriad of other escape paths for Sol.

  Given the options, it was no surprise that he reclaimed his spear, yanking it from the ground and throwing it mid-motion.

  Focus reclaimed Sol fully. He slowed his mad dash to a comfortable walk, entirely fixated on the incoming projectile.

  It missed him, zooming right past the corner of the estate—perfectly aimed at a disappearing runner who no longer existed—and buried itself in the ground there.

  Distance increased yet again. Amusement and confidence gripped him, and he tapped his forehead lightly with a finger to taunt his stunned opponent.

  Then he quickly began to jog again, conserving his energy, even as he tucked the weapon from the ground as he passed and arrived at the door several dozen meters before his opponent could.

  The mischievous smile drained from his face as he realized the familiar barrier adorning the front door.

  Someone was ‘arguing’ inside.