Although the female cultivators flung themselves to their knees, sobbing and begging for mercy, Jared’s Dragonslayer Sword carved a merciless arc of light through the air. Scarlet droplets fanned outward, not a single woman survived his sweep.
Flaxseed staggered upright, one hand pressed to the gash at his side. When saw the beautiful bodies strewn across the floor, wheezed in pain, and exasperation.
“Jared! Why’d you butcher every last one? Couldn’t you have left me a few alive? I never even had the chance to enjoy their company…” He hopped from one foot to the other, more agitated than injured.
Jared sheathed his blade and asked coolly, “Keep them alive so they could lure in more victims with those pretty faces?”
His golden eyes flicked toward Flaxseed. “Do you really think they would have surrendered? If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d already be a puddle of blood!”
Flaxseed let out a helpless sigh. “Fine, fine… If you had to kill them, at least leave the bodies intact, could still use them.”
Jared could only roll his eyes in speechless disgust. Everett and the others were likewise appalled, Flaxseed’s lust truly knew no bounds.
“Start gathering whatever‘s worth taking!” Jared ordered.
At that, Flaxseed brightened and was the first to dash toward the fallen women, rifling through their pouches. The sword’s last bead of blood had not yet fallen when Jared felt the heavens churn.
Above, clouds previously torn apart by the Dragonslayer Sword re-knit themselves in a violent spiral. Five pillars of dark-violet astral wind plummeted from the sky like clawing ghosts, each laden with pressure strong enough to pulverize a mountain.
Flaxseed was crouched beside a corpse, rummaging for a scented sachet, when the sudden force made his hand tremble.
The warm emerald had Just grabbed cracked in his fist. “What in the blazes is that?!”
Everett was prying open the Bloodshadow Palace’s iron treasury gate.
Hearing Flaxseed’s shout, looked up, and his pupils shrank. “Level Nine Wandering Immortals! They’re with that mysterious organization!”
Even as spoke, five figures burst through the clouds and hovered over the ruined palace.
The leader wore a black cloak and a bronze ghost mask. A twist of black fire writhed around his fingertips. It was Ghostmask, the very man Jared had wounded days earlier.
“Young man, we meet again so soon,” Ghostmask rasped, his voice like rusty chains. “Last time, I underestimated you. Today, you’ll pay for every drop of blood you owe.”
Behind him, the others revealed their strength: on the left floated a gray-robed elder encircled by twelve Nether Lanterns whose sickly green flames danced like souls in torment.
On the right swayed a woman in crimson, nine blood-red ribbons flicking about waist like serpents.
Further back loomed a bare-chested giant, plated in dark-gold scales, twin axes as wide as millstones gripped in his hands.
The last figure was the eeriest of all, a person shrouded in white mist, only a pair of glacial eyes flickering within the fog.
“Mr. Chance, what now?” Everett shoved a disciple aside and flicked thirty-six tiny azure flags from his sleeve. They stabbed into the ground, instantly forming a protective formation.
Five Level Nine Wandering Immortals, heavy hitters even in the Third Heaven.
Flaxseed ducked behind Jared and whispered, “You’re on your own for this one. I burned through everything fighting the Bloodshadow Palace, and I’m still hurt, I’ve got nothing left.”
Indeed, was drained and wounded, another bout was impossible for him.
Facing the five palpable killing auras, Jared’s Dragonslayer Sword hummed in his palm. Each opponent was at least as strong as the Bloodshadow Palace’s Saintess, and their auras were intertwined, hinting at a deadly combined attack.
Behind him, the treasury gate had finally cracked open. Piles of celestial ore glittered enticingly, enough to fuel Jared’s cultivation for quite some time. He could not afford to abandon them.
