A slight smile played at the corners of Jared’s mouth. With a graceful flick of his wrist, he ignited a ball of internal fire in his palm and casually tossed it into the air.
The sky erupted in flames, forming a barrier that shielded him from his attackers. Some of the disciples found the internal fire clinging to their bodies, causing them to scream in agony as the intense heat seared their skin.
As they stared at the sky engulfed in relentless flames, they had no choice but to retreat once again.
Gazing at the sky engulfed in flames, Cassius demanded, “Brat, who exactly are you?”
He knew that no one in Allardland had mastered the art of wielding internal flame. The way Jared effortlessly controlled the fire indicated that he could not possibly be from Allardland. As for the token Jared possessed, Cassius suspected it might have been stolen.
“I am your father…” Jared flashed a mischievous smile.
“You have a death wish!” Cassius was livid. He couldn’t tolerate being disrespected by a brat like Jared at his age.
With a powerful swing of his palms, Cassius unleashed a wave of blood mist toward Jared. The air became saturated with the thick, crimson fog, turning the entire world into a startling shade of red. Within this eerie expanse, sight and consciousness were distorted.
The darkness was so dense that Jared and his group could no longer see their own hands in front of them, nor sense their enemies’ presence. They were, in essence, rendered blind, vulnerable in a world swallowed by red oblivion.
A cold smirk spread across Cassius’ face- Jared and his companions seemed as helpless as lambs to the slaughter. Yet, in his arrogance, Cassius failed to notice the peculiar glow beginning to radiate from Jared’s forehead. Slowly, an eye opened there.
Jared had activated his Nethersky Eye. Despite the thick veil of blood mist surrounding him, he could see everything with perfect clarity, his vision cutting through the darkness as though it didn’t ‘exist.
Unaware that Jared could still see, Cassius strode toward him with arrogant confidence, fully intent on teaching him a lesson.
However, just as he reached Jared, before he could make a move, a deafening noise erupted.
Bang!
“In an instant, Cassius was struck harshly by a whip.
The blow sent him reeling, and before he could even process what had happened, an excruciating pain surged through his head. It felt as if thousands of ants were gnawing away inside his consciousness field, leaving him disoriented and stunned.”
In a desperate attempt to retreat, Cassius crashed to the ground and rolled uncontrollably. The unbearable pain from the assault on his consciousness overwhelmed him. As he writhed in agony, clutching his head, the thick blood mist that had once engulfed the battlefield began to gradually dissipate, revealing the scene around him.
Faiyar, Trystan, and the others stood utterly bewildered as they watched Cassius writhing on the ground in agony. Moments earlier, the dense blood mist had obscured their vision, leaving them clueless about what had transpired.
“You… You have a Demon Flogger?” Cassius stammered, fear flashing in his eyes as he struggled to rise with the help of his disciple. He turned toward Jared, his confidence now replaced by dread.
“You’re quite knowledgeable,” Jared replied with a cold smirk, gripping the Demon Flogger tightly. “This little tool was made specifically for Demonic Cultivators like you. How does it feel?
Want another taste?”
Cassius remained silent, but his face betrayed him-he had no desire to endure the torment of the whip again.
“Brat, don’t get cocky,” Cassius warned, a sharp edge in his voice. “I’m an Ultimate Realm expert. If I were to be subdued by a mere Seventh Level Tribulator like you, I might as well be dead.”
With that, he flipped his palm, revealing a bone flute-a pristine, milky white instrument that radiated a soft glow. The flute was clearly crafted from an immortal’s bone, its smooth surface gleaming in the light. Measuring over half a meter in length, it unmistakably resembled a human lower leg bone. What was particularly eerie was the way it seemed to pulse with life, as if blood flowed through it, casting a rhythmic red glow.
“Since you’re so eager to meet your end, I’ll grant your wish,” Cassius declared, a murderous gleam in his eyes as he grasped the bone flute. Bringing it to his lips, he began to play, unleashing a haunting melody that seemed to resonate from the depths of the underworld.
The sound was disturbingly deep, akin to the growl of a famished demon, sending chills down the spine of anyone who heard it. A suffocating sense of dread enveloped the air.
As the eerie notes of the bone flute filled the surroundings, several disciples of the Soul Demon Sect began to shift uneasily, their eyes turning bloodshot.
