At times, needed no swing at all. The halo of molten gold around dissolved lesser cultivators on contact, as if his very presence were their bane.
One cultivator lunged from behind, a bone dagger dripping with demonic energy aimed at Jared’s spine. Without turning, Jared flicked his wrist. A crescent of golden sword energy screamed backward, cleaving attacker and weapon clean in two.
“Pathetic…” The word fell softly, yet carried a chill indifference. He threaded through the enemy ranks like wind through wheat. Each measured swing reaped another cluster of lives. Where the golden light passed, demonic energy shriveled, white bones melted, and even the soil, tainted by years of dark rites, seemed to quake beneath his power.
Half an hour later, silence settled. Every cultivator of Malevolent Path Hall lay dead, save Lunaria, still in Flaxseed’s grasp somewhere inside.
Smoke, blood, and scorched marrow mingled in the air, painting the valley with brutal finality.
Jared halted before the palace gate. Crimson light pulsed from the stone walls, bathing his features in a grim glow.
Deep inside, sensed an aura-vast, coiled, and far stronger than Dioz or Varek. The branch leader of Malevolent Path Hall waited.
“Show yourself! Now!” Jared’s voice rolled down the rocky throat of the valley like thunder thick with spiritual energy.
Each syllable struck the broken stone walls and came back again, louder than before. “Your followers are ash, every last one. How much longer do you intend to hide?”
For a moment, the ruined palace ahead rested in tomb-like silence. Then a low, rasping laugh oozed through the cracked doors, cold enough to crawl beneath the skin.
“Well done, Jared and Flaxseed… I must admit, I am impressed you carved a path this far…”
A shadow drifted out of the inner darkness. It wore a billowing black robe, the hood so large that the face disappeared within it. Yet the aura around the figure throbbed with power. It was an aura of Earthly Immortal Realm Level Nine.
“Mr. Atkinson?” Jared lifted the Dragonslayer Sword toward the gloom. Golden fire blossomed along the blade. Flames licked across Jared’s shoulders, coating his armor in molten light while settled into a silent, lethal stance.
Quentin Atkinson lifted his head. Two crimson eyes gleamed like blood-rubies in a pit. “Indeed… You butchered my branch and smashed my altar… Today, I’ll refine your very divine soul and drink what remains.”
“Spare me the theatrics…” Jared leveled the sword at Quentin’s heart. “Is it true that the divine souls of the Flaxseed clan were sent to the headquarters?”
Quentin chuckled, contempt curling off his tongue. “Of course… Only the grand masters at the headquarters deserve the divine souls of experts. You want them back? Feel free to try… If you survive the next heartbeat.”
He then swept an arm wide. Black energy poured from his palm, twisting into serpents as thick as barrels. Each snake shrieked through forked tongues while the air itself sizzled and melted behind their passage.
Jared growled. Golden fire roared up the Dragonslayer Sword, and a fire dragon coiled out of the metal, larger, brighter, alive.
The fiery beast opened its jaws and roared so loud the valley floor jumped. It then hurtled toward the vipers in a storm of molten scales.
The fire dragon met the serpents, and they vanished in bursts of cinder. The golden fire, still hungry, rushed straight for Quentin’s head.
“Your opponent is me!”
A column of scarlet light speared the sky. Flaxseed stepped from the palace ruin, charms blazing between his fingers, the heat as fierce as Jared’s dragon fire yet pulsing with wild, erratic life.
