"You’re still too slow."
"Death Art: Death Crescent Slash."
The crowd also witnessed Drake flying through the air as the two moons shone with an eerie light, sending chills down the spines of those watching.
Suddenly, Drake’s figure vanished from the sky—and in an instant, the young master of the Ignis Clan was seen taking out another teleportation talisman, appearing twenty meters away.
But what shocked the crowd was that before Leo had fully materialized, Drake had already appeared, slashing toward his neck.
The battle between Drake and Leo had drawn most of the crowd, largely because their clash was closest to the city. Many had come to witness the young master of the Ignis Clan in action.
Gasps echoed through the crowd as Drake’s slash sent Leo’s head flying into the sky—but upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be a puppet head. The real Leo had reappeared fifty meters away, staring coldly at Drake while clutching his neck.
Those with knowledge immediately recognized it—a Death Substitute Talisman. When near death, it replaces the user’s body with a puppet, sparing them from demise.
Drake sighed. He had missed his chance again. Leo now stared at him with heightened caution.
Drake hadn’t used the Phantom Step for movement—it was the Devouring Void Step. Thanks to this technique, he had sensed Leo’s location even while Leo was phased between space.
In the next moment, Leo did something shocking. He turned to the crowd and declared, "Anyone who can kill him will be accepted into the Ignis Clan and granted resources."
An uproar erupted. The crowd broke into a frenzy of whispers. Even Drake looked at Leo, visibly angered.
"How can we trust your words?" someone in the crowd shouted, drawing everyone’s attention.
"As the young master of the Ignis Clan, my word is credible," Leo said firmly. The crowd nodded. There was no way Leo would go back on such a public statement.
More than half of the crowd—over a hundred cultivators—rushed forward, surrounding Drake with weapons raised and killing intent blazing in their eyes.
"I never thought you would stoop this low in a battle," Drake said, turning his cold gaze toward Leo.
"Pfft, stoop low? I don’t even know who you are or why you want to kill me. Do you expect me to wash my neck and offer it to your blade? This is a battle—the only thing that matters is victory," Leo snickered, feeling delighted by the look on Drake’s face.
For once, he felt he had gained the upper hand.
Drake snorted, then turned to the crowd. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
The crowd remained silent, but their overflowing killing intent answered for them.
"Then don’t blame me for what happens next," Drake said coldly, as an eerie glow surrounded him.
"Impudence! Let’s see you try. Attack!" someone shouted, and the mob surged forward.
Drake’s eyes gleamed with icy resolve. He hadn’t expected to raise his weapon against so many humans at once. He lifted his twin scythes, which elongated like spears.
"Death Art: Death Crescent Slash."
"Devouring Art: Devourer Strike."
One scythe was cloaked in a deathly aura, the other in a devouring hue. Both radiated an eerie light, and as Drake unleashed his full aura, he began to resemble a demon rising from the depths.
"I’ll give you one last chance. You’d better leave now," Drake said coldly, his voice sending chills through the crowd.
"Don’t mind him, he’s just bluffing! If he had the strength, he would’ve attacked already. He’s scared of our numbers!" the same person shouted again.
The crowd hesitated but seemed swayed by his words. Still, a few—especially the weaker ones—chose to retreat. It was better to be safe than sorry.
Drake turned toward the speaker. The man was young, with venomous eyes that gleamed like a snake’s. It was clear he was the type who thrived on trouble.
In the next moment, Drake’s figure vanished. Gasps rippled through the crowd as they saw the young man’s head soaring through the air. Silence fell like a shroud as blood gushed from the headless body collapsing to the ground.
All eyes turned to the figure responsible—Drake—whose scythe still dripped with blood.
[Host has killed an Early Stage Origin Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
"Not even an EXP," Drake snorted.
The gruesome sight shattered their courage. A wave of fear swept through the onlookers, and many began to quietly retreat, eyeing Drake with dread.
"Let’s attack in groups! If we overwhelm him, we can kill him!" someone shouted, reigniting the crowd’s bloodlust. Inspired, they surged toward Drake in coordinated groups.
Drake shook his head, almost pitying them. They were judging him by his cultivation level alone—but his power wasn’t bound by that measure.
"You’re making a mistake here," he muttered.
Without hesitation, Drake moved. He knew this world—cultivation was unforgiving. If he didn’t kill them now, they’d find ways to kill him later, especially if they sought favor with the Ignis Clan.
Screams of agony echoed as blood soaked the earth, dyeing the forest floor crimson.
[Host has killed an Early Stage Origin Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
[Host has killed an Early Stage Origin Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
[Host has killed a Mid Stage Origin Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
[Host has killed a Late Stage Origin Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
[Host has killed an Early Stage Origin Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
[Host has killed an Early Stage Soul Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
[Host has killed a Mid Stage Soul Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
[Host has killed a Late Stage Soul Foundation Realm Human. No EXP or DP gained.]
Drake had lost count of how many times his scythe had swung. Life after life fell before him, yet something primal stirred within—a dark delight that carved a smirk beneath the black mask he wore.