Uzai understood everything now.
Ursul had just passed into this stage. The raindrops had frozen in the sky and his cultivation had advanced as well. 8th stage Origin Heart Realm. Uzai could already barely cope with Ursul with the level of cultivation he currently possessed. Now... it was hard to give an answer.
If only his soldiers had helped him. No, if his loyal soldiers had come instead of these traitors. They would have immediately assumed a formation and he would have stepped into the Ascension Realm. With Plain City's unique formation, this would not be difficult. At that point, Ursul's pure strength would not save him. Then he could have shown vividly how the power of armies shapes nations.
At that moment, both were looking into each other's faces, and neither remembered that they were once much closer.
Every single drop falling upon the city suddenly condensed into a massive mass, collapsing upon Uzai like an avalanche. Uzai's dense earth armor softened completely under the penetrative and relentless pressure of the water, and the technique broke. His vision blocked by that dense veil of rain and his breath cut short, Uzai became unable to find his target and attack him with wind blades. From within that chaos, the sound of Ursul's bells was heard once more, but this time from very close by.
Ursul appeared at the very center of Uzai's unshakeable defense, as if he were the rain itself. His movements were so fluid and rapid that most of the onlookers could only see a gray silhouette embracing Uzai. With a single move, Ursul locked his hands around Uzai's throat and snapped the neck bones of an Origin Heart expert—bones no different from steel—like a dry twig. The rain suddenly returned to its old, calm rhythm as if it had completed its duty; however, the silence in the square was heavier than a graveyard silence. Ursul stood up with Uzai's proud head in his hand. There under the rain, with his bleeding body, but in victory.
"Huh?... haha! HAHAHA!!"
The laughter he let out echoed through the entire city. Those laughs did not represent the joy of a victory, but rather a madness that made these people tremble with fear. Mais and the others watched in astonishment as this "jester," whose hands were covered in blood, transformed into a new, rare story seen by these arid lands, with the severed head in his hand and the running makeup on his face.
Luka Navan, while listening to the chilling laughter of Ursul holding Lord Uzai's severed head, understood that all power balances in Plain City had been demolished in a single second. This wasn't just a revenge; it was a political earthquake running through the veins of the Gold State. Luka turned around without uttering a single word, trying to shroud the horror in his gaze with professional composure, and quickly distanced himself on the road turned to mud by the rain. He had to deliver this news to his family, to his father immediately, and make the first move to fill this massive vacuum of authority. Plain City could choose its new leader from within, but Luka knew they could still support their own candidates. On the other hand, his mind simply could not comprehend how a man like Ursul, whose mind was in pieces and who roamed the borders of insanity, had obtained such immense power, and how he had discarded a Lord so easily.
Wasn't this man crippled? All of this... how?
An option came to his mind, actually. A very logical option, but Ursul's madness caused Luka to reject believing in this option.
While the crowd gathered under the shutters of the auction building was still under the influence of shock, Lord Regal stepped forward with heavy strides. There was neither fear nor judgment on the old man's face; only that twisted respect felt toward power. Without looking at the corpse on the ground, Regal bowed slightly before Ursul and said, "Congratulations, Ursul," his voice blending into the rustle of the rain. "The Tao has found an unshakeable path within your grief. Today, not just revenge, but a true art was performed here." The surrounding commanders and merchants could say nothing in the face of Regal openly congratulating this madman. Fear had shackled their tongues.
They felt that the Auction Lord's composure could compete with the madness of the clown before him.
Mais struck his black Bo staff against the ground, the dull thud gave a signal to Hideo. He wanted to get away from this chaotic scene as soon as possible, blending into the shadows without drawing attention to himself. After all, Luka had already left. Both made a move to depart.
However, Ursul casually hurled Uzai's head into a ditch by the roadside as if it were a worthless piece of stone. The wet thud of the head hitting the mud made the silence in front of the auction building even heavier. Mais did not slow his movements, but Hideo could feel Ursul turning toward them, and just the man's look toward him made his soul feel as if it were suffocating. Ursul slowly turned to Mais. The remnants of the clown makeup, combined with the blood flowing from the wounds on his face, had transformed him into a jester out of hell.
"The show..." Ursul said, with that raspy tone in his voice. "Did you like it, Sage Prince?"
This was his first words since the moment he killed Uzai.
Mais paused. He turned around slowly and fixed his unseen gaze from behind his mask upon Ursul. He highly doubted there was any interaction between him and this man. He only remembered Hideo saying a few things on the day they first arrived, but surely there were other people this man would want to take revenge on. Why had he turned to them?
Moreover, he had called him Sage Prince. Had he been listening to what happened inside the auction? For someone at the 7th stage, a sense of hearing at this level was truly incredible, to be completely honest.
The people around held their breath, watching the tension between these two mysterious figures. One was a madman who drenched the city in blood, and the other was a mysterious man who astonished everyone with his wealth. Although it clearly wouldn't surprise anyone if this masked figure was torn to pieces in a single strike, most could see that the interaction between them wasn't something oriented toward violence.
After a prolonged silence, Mais spoke. "It was impressive." His voice was so flat and emotionless that this simple word sounded like the result of an observation rather than an approval. Yet, there were tones in his voice that he could not completely hide. Even though Regal was around, Mais was actually tense as well. "You took your revenge. You must be feeling better. And the dead too, I hope."
This answer tensed the people a bit. Speaking about the dead could drive the mad man even crazier anyway and encourage him to kill everyone. Even Regal's face soured. But Ursul's didn't.
On the contrary, upon this answer, Ursul threw his head back and let out another one of his infamous clown laughs that shook the sky. His bells jingled with a mocking joy at every shudder of his body. Then, with an unexpected manner, he approached Mais. With every step he took, Hideo felt his heart grow heavier. This man's dense aura was increasing with every step, coming toward them. And finally, when he came right in front of them, he said, "Allow me to accompany you for part of the way." This wasn't a request; it was a decision. Mais could not immediately grasp the logic behind this move. Though an idea came to his mind, he did not find it logical. Ursul walking alongside him would technically be the greatest shield to prevent Luka Navan's spies or Lord Regal's men from pursuing him. No one would dare attack the person next to a monster who had slaughtered the City Lord minutes ago.
But the Ursul monster was a threat in himself. Mais did not lower his guard and wanted to read the man's intent, but reading a mad man was like trying to learn how to read and write all over again. It was very difficult to achieve easily.
Mais sent Hideo off, saying, "You go ahead and complete the preparations." Hideo, though hesitating, bowed to Mais's authority, slipped through the crowd, and vanished from sight. In fact, even his hesitation was artificial. Although he worried about other people attacking him on the road, running away alone was vastly preferable to staying next to the mad jester. Just being able to act as if he were hesitating in that man's presence was an achievement in itself.
Thus, the duo separated from the crowd. Now under the rain, two strange figures were walking side by side in the muddy streets of Plain City: one a young man who had given himself the name prince with his black hair and mysterious mask, and the other a stumbling clown in a blood-soaked costume.
As they distanced themselves from the city center, the surrounding human voices left their place only to the rain and Ursul's irregular breathing. Mais, checking ahead of him with the staff in his hand, broke the silence. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "You took your own revenge, you fought your own battle. Are you helping me? Don't you have things to make up for with other people? With friends."
Ursul stopped for a moment. His mad smile appeared through that bloody makeup on his face. This tensed Mais again. He could not see the man's smile, but he could hear his giggles. This man never laughed normally. Mais's tension was not for nothing either. Regal was gone. No one could protect him from Ursul anymore.
"Why, you ask?"
Mais suddenly stopped. At that moment, he was struggling to maintain his facial expression. No, in fact, he couldn't maintain it. Because a small, warm wave of air was coming toward his face. Ursul seemed to be looking into his eyes right in front of his face.
Perhaps smiling, perhaps angry. No matter what, Mais was quite tense.
"Why did you buy that formation?"
Suddenly, Ursul's question opened Mais's eyes. When he turned his head, Ursul had already returned to where he was. He was looking ahead with a smile, but his words had caused Mais to understand everything.
"Aren't you quite sorrowful too?" Ursul said, asking once more on top of it. Mais did not answer. As the duo entered the Red Road Forest, Mais felt that he understood some things about this man more clearly.