Chapter 69: Journey and Songs
The sky was full of light, meaning it was afternoon by the time they finally breached the perimeter of the Shu Clan’s primary territory.
The heavy, oppressive rain clouds from the night before had long since parted, leaving behind a crisp, blazing sun that illuminated the sprawling architecture of the estate.
Evan and Peaker slipped quietly into the inner rings of the clan.
To their profound thankfulness, the grand stone hallways and courtyards were entirely deserted, wrapped in a heavy, peaceful silence.
Everyone was sleeping.
It was the natural biological cycle of their kind, as vampires slept soundly during the day and remained fully awake and active at night.
The grand wooden doors to the residential quarters were shut tight, and not a single high tier cultivator was awake to question why two battered, blood stained hunters were returning in the dead of day.
They moved quickly through the shadows of the stable block.
Working in silence, they picked out two of the sturdiest horses available, threw heavy leather saddles over their backs, and mounted them without drawing any unnecessary attention.
Keeping the animals to a slow, deliberate walk, they guided them along the cobblestone paths toward the main exit.
As they reached the massive iron gate of the clan, the quiet atmosphere fractured.
A mortal knight, clad in standard steel plate armor and holding a halberd, emerged from the guardhouse.
He was stepping forward, clearing his throat to ask the usual, tedious protocol questions required for anyone attempting to leave the grounds during restricted hours.
However, Evan was in no mood for those things.
His mind was completely exhausted from the cosmic horrors of the previous night, his clothes were still damp with dried blood, and his patience was entirely non-existent.
Before the mortal knight could even utter his first words. He simply took out his revolver, his movements a fluid blur of muscle memory, and aimed.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
In rapid succession, he shot down the four guards that were on the ground as well as the ones stationed up on the wooden watchtower. The men dropped instantly, their weapons clattering loudly against the stone. Evan had used his paralyzing bullets, not the ones used for killing, ensuring the guards would simply remain completely immobilized for the next few minutes without losing their lives.
With the path cleared, Evan tucked the smoking revolver back into his coat.
He kicked his heels into the flanks of his mount, and alongside Peaker, they bolted through the open gates, leaving the quiet vampire clan far behind them.
They traveled and traveled for an hour, the horses maintaining a steady, rhythmic gallop along the dusty dirt paths that cut through the countryside.
The bright afternoon sun beat down on their backs, slowly drying the lingering dampness from their tunics.
Eventually, the jagged tree lines gave way to a massive, breathtaking valley overflowing with millions of bright yellow petals.
The vast field swayed gently in the afternoon breeze, the vibrant yellow matching the brilliant light of the sun above.
Peaker pulled back on his reins, bringing his panting horse to a gradual halt near a sparkling, clear river that meandered through the center of the valley.
"Let’s stop here," Peaker said, wiping a layer of sweat and grime from his forehead with the back of his sleeve.
"The horses need to drink water too, and relax themselves before we press on any further. They’re completely spent."
Evan nodded, dismounting smoothly and guiding his horse toward the water’s edge.
As they unbuckled the horses’ reins to let them drink, a small group of independent people living in the Sunflower Valley noticed their arrival.
These were rugged, peaceful folk who lived outside the direct jurisdiction of the major warring clans or sects, carving out a simple life amidst the flowers.
Seeing two weary travelers who clearly carried the heavy aura of battle, the village elders came forward and warmly invited them over for a drink to wash away the dust of the road.
Exhausted and thoroughly parched, they gladly accepted the hospitality.
The villagers led them toward a cluster of large, reinforced canvas tents pitched near the edge of the field.
Inside the main communal tent, the air was warm, smelling faintly of roasted herbs and woodsmoke.
The locals immediately served them large wooden mugs of frothy, bitter ale and placed a massive platter of hot roasted meat directly between them.
The rich, savory juices sizzled against the wooden platters, instantly kicking Evan’s dormant appetite into overdrive.
They thoroughly enjoyed drinking, the cold ale cutting through the dry grit in their throats.
As the alcohol began to settle into their systems, the heavy, lingering trauma of the immortal beast and the dead Supreme Elders began to soften.
The villagers picked up simple stringed instruments, tapping their boots against the dirt floor, and started to sing a boisterous, rhythmic traveling tune.
Evan and Peaker, swept up in the rare moment of safety, joined in, raising their mugs and singing along with them inside the crowded tent.
Oh we see the rising sun from the east And bread rising through yeast
Oh we sleep like drunks And talk like drunks
Though we don’t like what we do we still prefer it over books!
The voices boomed inside the canvas walls, laughter echoing over the clinking of wooden mugs.
They sang and sang, draining pitcher after pitcher of ale, letting the collective exhaustion of the past twenty four hours finally take its toll.
One by one, the travelers and the villagers began to slump against the heavy fur blankets scattered across the floor, until they were all deep in their sleep.
Hours passed in total stillness.
Peaker was the first to open his eyes, a dull, throbbing ache settling right behind his temples from the heavy ale.
He blinked against the dimming light inside the tent, realizing the afternoon sun had already begun to dip lower into the horizon.
He shifted slightly, looking down to his left.
He saw Evan snoring softly on the left of his side, completely dead to the world with his hat tilted over his eyes.
The other people were just scattered across the floor, some sleeping peacefully there over the empty platters, and some there against the canvas walls.
The heavy intake of ale had left Peaker with an intense, absolute urgency to urinate.
Trying his best not to wake the sleeping villagers, he carefully navigated the minefield of limbs, slipping quietly through the flap of the tent.
The cool evening air hit his face, instantly clearing some of the lingering fog from his mind.
He looked around the quiet campsite and saw a dense, dark forest lying just two meters away on the back side of the cluster of tents.
Seeking privacy, he walked over to the edge of the tree line, stepping into the shadow of the thick canopy.
He found a secluded spot near a large oak tree and started to relax himself there, exhaling a long sigh of relief as the internal pressure finally receded.
The forest was completely silent, the rustling of the sunflowers behind him the only audible sound.
But the moment he finished, the peaceful atmosphere shattered into a cold, suffocating weight.
As he turned his back to return to the safety of the tent, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up.
A sudden, visceral spike of adrenaline flooded his system, completely wiping away the remaining effects of the alcohol.
The silence of the woods suddenly felt calculated, heavy, and unnatural.
Someone was watching him.
