Chapter 67: Growing The Soul Clan

The city loomed ahead, a massive, chaotic sprawl of dark stone buildings and flickering red lanterns. Towering walls surrounded Blackthorne, giving it the appearance of a fortress rather than a city. The streets below bustled with warriors, mercenaries, and rogue cultivators, all living under the rule of shifting factions.

As the phoenix landed outside the city gates, Xavier pulled his hood over his head. "Stay close. We don't know who's watching."

The three of them strode into the city, immediately feeling the weight of countless stares. Blackthorne wasn't a place where trust existed—it was a place where the strong devoured the weak.

"Master, how are we supposed to find this Valen?" Raiden whispered, scanning the crowd.

Xavier's Dragon Eye flickered to life, golden patterns swirling in his irises. "I'll find him."

He focused, pushing his senses outward, scanning the thousands of life forces in the city. Among them, most were ordinary warriors, but then—

A faint draconic aura pulsed. Small, but unmistakable.

"There," Xavier said, locking onto the signature. Hes

In an instant, he vanished, his speed making it appear as if he had teleported. Raiden and Tonya quickly followed, using their spiritual energy to keep up.

The trio stopped in front of a rundown inn, the scent of alcohol and burning incense thick in the air. The draconic aura was inside.

Xavier stepped forward, his gaze sharp. He pushed open the door, the dimly lit interior revealing a few scattered patrons. But in the farthest corner, a young boy—no older than fifteen—sat alone, his silver eyes staring warily at his surroundings.

His presence was faint, as if he had learned to suppress his energy. But to Xavier's Dragon Eye, the truth was clear.

This was Valen Drakon.

The boy sensed their approach and immediately tensed, his hand gripping a small blade at his side.

"Who are you?" Valen demanded, his voice steady despite his young age.

Xavier took a step forward, lowering his hood. His golden eyes locked onto Valen's silver ones.

"I'm Xavier York, leader of the Soul Clan," he said calmly. "And I'm here for you."

Xavier stood amidst the carnage, his golden Dragon Eye flickering softly as the flames from the battle slowly died down. Valen, still stunned by the overwhelming show of power, stood beside Raiden and Tonya, his grip on his blade loosened but his mind racing with new possibilities.

Xavier exhaled and turned toward his disciples. "Raiden, Tonya, you're taking Valen back to the Soul Clan's kingdom. Ensure his safety."

Raiden nodded immediately, his loyalty unwavering. "Yes, Master."

Tonya placed a hand on Valen's shoulder, giving him a small but reassuring smile. "You'll be safe with us."

Valen hesitated, glancing at Xavier. "What about you?"

Xavier smirked slightly. "I have unfinished business."

As he spoke, a strange sensation washed over him. His Dragon Eye pulsed, sensing something—or rather, someone—among the shadows of the ruined inn. A cloaked figure, sitting at the farthest corner, barely visible through the smoke and dim lighting.

Xavier's entire body tensed. That aura… it felt familiar.

His golden eyes locked onto the figure, but the moment he focused, they moved. In an instant, the presence vanished out the back door.

"Master?" Raiden asked, sensing Xavier's sudden shift in focus.

Xavier raised a hand to silence him, his gaze unwavering.

"Take Valen and go. Now."

Without waiting for a response, Xavier vanished with Ethereal Draconic Step, following the fleeting aura through the winding streets of Blackthorne.

The figure moved swiftly, darting through back alleys and disappearing into the maze-like layout of the city. But Xavier was faster.

His Dragon Eye pulsed again, locking onto the presence, guiding him even when the figure tried to conceal themselves. The pursuit led him through narrow streets, past watchful mercenaries and wary civilians, until finally—

They descended into an underground passage.

Xavier followed without hesitation, pressing his hand against the cold stone as he slipped through a hidden doorway beneath a half-buried ruin at the city's edge. The moment he entered, he knew—

This was a Crimson Cult hideout.

Torches lined the underground passage, flickering against bloodstained walls. The air was damp, thick with the scent of rot and something even darker—the lingering presence of forbidden rituals.

Xavier slowed his steps, masking his aura as he ventured deeper. The corridor opened into a vast underground chamber, where hooded figures gathered around a massive draconic sigil carved into the floor.

At the center of the sigil stood a robed elder, his hands outstretched as he chanted in a guttural, ancient language. The atmosphere pulsed with dark energy.

Xavier's eyes narrowed. This wasn't just a hideout. It was a ritual site.

His gaze flickered toward the edge of the chamber—and there, standing near the shadows, was the cloaked figure he had been chasing.

The figure turned slightly, and for just a second, golden eyes—just like his—shone beneath the hood.

Xavier's breath caught.

"Who… are you?" he muttered under his breath.

Before he could step closer, the elder finished his chant, and the sigil glowed violently.

The cultists turned, and the elder's eyes locked onto Xavier.

"Kill him!"

A dozen warriors surged forward, but Xavier wasn't focused on them anymore.

His eyes were locked on the cloaked figure—who, without hesitation, turned and disappeared deeper into the underground.

Xavier gritted his teeth and unsheathed his blade.

"I don't have time for this."

Flames erupted around him as he prepared to carve his way through the cultists—because no matter what, he wasn't leaving without answers.