“Jared Chance!” the scream, raw with hatred, venom, and a sliver of fear even Sheldon Soulsby failed to notice in himself, ripped through the hush like a wounded beast.
Fixing his bloodshot gaze on the form above, Sheldon’s face contorted, the five-finger brand that had once humiliated him throbbing with phantom pain. Old grudges and new injuries erupted inside him like a volcano left too long to smolder.
“You wretched brat! How dare you appear before me again! I will tear you limb from limb and burn your soul for a thousand years!”
Black smog geysered from his body, spiraling skyward like a column of smoke, his voice climbing to a manic, almost shrill pitch. By then, Garth Thornscale had also recognized Jared.
His massive, bell-like eyes blazed with murderous intent as he roared, “So you’re Jared Chance, the b*stard who slew our elder and wrecked our Melded Beastkin Sacred Sect’s ambitions! Good. You’ve come at the right time. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down. I shall cut off your head to avenge my fallen comrades!”
Faced with the hysterical roars and murderous intent of the two below, Jared didn’t even lift an eyelid.
In fact, his gaze barely lingered on Sheldon and Garth, merely sweeping across the horrific battlefield below.
It passed over the severely wounded but still standing disciples of the Sword Sect, finally resting on Linden Cloudridge atop the main peak—weak in aura but resolute in gaze. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging him, before turning his placid gaze toward Sheldon and Garth.
There was no angry questioning nor fierce reprimand. In a calm, bone-chilling voice, Jared finally spoke. It wasn’t loud, yet every word carried clearly across the battlefield, reaching the ears of every living being.
“I had intended to let you live a few more days, and only settle the score when I’m free. But alas, you insignificant beings have the guts and stupidity to commit this massacre in my absence…”
As he paused, his eyes seemed to pierce through the twisted faces of Sheldon and Garth, seeing the fear and madness buried deep within their souls. A faint, mocking, disdainful curve swiftly appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“Very well… Since you are so eager to send yourselves to death, I shall grant your wish today. This Level Ten has been too peaceful for too long. It’s time to wash it with your filthy blood.”
Naturally, the indifference in Jared’s words and his smug arrogance drove Sheldon and Garth nearly to madness.
Who were they?
One had ruled the Blood-Scar Plains for tens of thousands of years as the leader of the Demon Sect. The other was the ambitious, newly risen head of the Melded Beastkin Sacred Sect. They were no ordinary people!
Never before had they been treated with such contempt, as if they were mere ants to be crushed at will.
“How arrogant! You’re nothing but an ignorant young whelp, puffed up by a bit of luck! You’ve gotten too smug for your own good!” Sheldon bellowed. “Today, I will show you the gulf between the power of the Heavenly Immortal Realm and your pathetic Human Immortal Realm. Everyone, attack! Capture this fiend alive! I will personally end his miserable life!”
Meanwhile, Garth yelled, “Demonstone! Tear him apart for me!”
A general from the Melded Beastkin Sacred Sect instantly let out a deep, thunderous roar at the command. He was nearly thirty feet tall, his body covered in dark brown, rock-like armor, with a pair of curved bull horns atop his head and an aura of Top Level Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Five.
With a sudden stomp, his massive frame displayed shocking speed, rocketing forward like a cannonball, carrying the terrifying momentum of mountains collapsing and earth splitting, straight toward Jared in the sky!
In his hands, he swung a black greatsword the size of a gate panel, aiming to cleave the latter down. Even before the blade was fully unleashed, the immense gust it generated exploded the air below.
This was Demonstone, Garth’s famed brute-force general, known for overwhelming strength and defense, who had once smashed the magical items of his peers with just his sheer power.
Garth had sent him to strike Jared in the most brutal, tyrannical way possible, to crush the pretentious little upstart into pulp and vent his own rage. At the same time, he hoped the move could boost the morale of his troops, who had clearly been shaken by Jared’s appearance.
Below, countless eyes were fixed on the scene. Naturally, the Demon Sect and Melded Beastkin forces hoped Demonstone’s attack would achieve glory.
The disciples of Mystic Sky Sword Sect, on the other hand, held their breath. Despite Jared’s overwhelming aura, the enemy was a Top Level Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Five cultivator, so what were the chances he could take on someone so terrifyingly strong and brutally powerful?
Faced with the mountain-shattering, earth-cleaving strike, Jared finally moved.
However, instead of lifting his Dragonslayer Sword, he merely raised his left hand casually. His long fingers flicked outward toward the roaring, charging Demonstone as if shooing away an annoying fly, the gesture light, almost lazy.
There was no earth-shattering burst of spiritual energy nor dazzling light from spells.
Only an invisible, intangible, yet incomparably overwhelming momentum, seemingly containing the ultimate laws of Heaven and Earth, irresistible in its majesty, surged forth with the flick of his sleeve.
