The Elven Cultivator

Hydra's three heads gaped open in unison, its six eyes widening into perfect circles. The expression on its faces shifted from astonishment to horror, then from horror to a dumbfounded stupor.

"Th-this..."

The left head stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.

The middle head blinked hard, as if it couldn't believe what it was seeing.

The right head simply shut its eyes and opened them again, as if to check if it was dreaming.

The Beastman swallowed hard, his eyes wide and speechless.

He finally understood how Leon had died.

The middle-aged man was equally filled with shock.

He had never seen such a strange and powerful ability.

'Is that Magic? Or a combat technique?'

Wilder and the other two high-blood members of the Dragon Race exchanged a look, each seeing the horror in the others' eyes.

'This man is so strong!'

Without moving a single step from his spot, he had not only killed Leon but had also slaughtered more than two hundred skilled fighters, leaving none alive.

They had originally thought the three from the Fallen Dragon Association were the greatest threat, but now it was clear that the man before them was the most dangerous one of all!

Anton retracted the sword light. His calm gaze swept over the field of corpses before settling on Duncan.

The man's face paled, and cold sweat dripped from his forehead.

He had just cast over a dozen spells, but every single one had been shredded by that strange sword light. None had even come within ten meters of Anton.

This made him acutely aware of the overwhelming gap in power between them.

'Run!'

'If this fight continues, I'll definitely die!'

Duncan raised a hand and cast a spell at Anton, trying to slow him down. He then decisively activated a magical item on his person, and his entire body transformed into a streak of light, rocketing out of the courtyard.

Everett, already terrified out of his wits, watched in horror as Duncan abandoned him to flee. His expression changed drastically, and just as he was about to start cursing, a flash of cold light shot past from the corner of his eye, as swift as a meteor chasing the moon.

SHHIIK!

The onlookers saw only a flash of light, and in the next instant, the sword light had caught up to Duncan, striking him squarely in the back.

Duncan felt a chill on his back, followed immediately by an indescribable, excruciating pain radiating from his chest.

He looked down to see a bloody hole in the center of his chest, from which blood was gushing.

Duncan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but only a muffled gurgle escaped. His body pitched forward, crashing heavily onto the stone pavement and sending up a spray of blood.

Watching this, all the color drained from Everett's face.

He immediately spun around and stumbled toward Wilder, nearly falling over.

"Lord Wilder, save me!"

Just as Wilder was about to act, he felt a sharp, murderous aura lock onto him.

He whipped his head around, his eyes meeting the middle-aged man's.

At the same time, the Beastman and Hydra stared menacingly at the other two high-blood members of the Dragon Race.

For a moment, the three high-blood Dragon Race members dared not make a move.

That brief hesitation was all it took. The silvery-white sword light tore through the air, pierced through the center of Everett's back, and burst out of his chest in a spray of bloody mist.

Everett fell to the ground with a THUD. His body convulsed as he let out hoarse, rattling breaths.

But then, something happened that no one expected.

Everett actually struggled back to his feet.

'A wound that would have instantly killed a normal person wasn't enough to kill him?'

By the light of the moon, everyone could see clearly through the hole in his clothes. The skin on Everett's back had turned a strange grayish-white, and it was covered with purplish-black corpse spots, like mold blooming on an old wax figure.

"What is that?"

Hydra's three heads cried out in shock at the same time.

The faces of the middle-aged man and the Beastman also changed, their gazes fixed on Everett with suspicion and alarm.

They had never seen such a bizarre creature before.

The three high-blood members of the Dragon Race were equally astonished.

Anton's expression, however, remained unchanged. He merely narrowed his eyes slightly.

'As I thought. The man has undergone Half-Undead Transformation.'

He had 'smelled' a familiar scent on Everett earlier, and this only confirmed his suspicions.

Luring the rich and powerful to join by offering the 'longevity' that comes with Half-Undead Transformation—only true Undead possess immortality—in exchange for wealth and connections. This was a classic tactic of the Ring of Annihilation.

'Considering the intelligence reports on Everett's life, Anton suspected the man had undergone the Half-Undead Transformation quite some time ago.'

'It was even possible that every past president of the Flame Trade Association had actually just been Everett 'playing' a role.'

Anton glanced at the expressions on Wilder, the middle-aged man, and the others, and understood.

'It seems neither the Dragon Race nor the Fallen Dragon Association knows about the Ring of Annihilation yet.'

'That makes sense. The Ring of Annihilation was probably founded only recently and is still in a low-profile growth phase. They haven't made many public moves, so it's normal that the Dragon Race and the Fallen Dragon Association are unaware of them.'

Seeing Everett still trying to stumble away, Anton cast a Binding Spell to root him to the spot. Ignoring the man's pleas and shouts, he turned his gaze to the three members of the Dragon Race and the middle-aged man.

The atmosphere instantly became tense.

Even the normally chatty Hydra had all three of its mouths clamped shut, not daring to utter a word.

Meeting Anton's gaze, the middle-aged man's heart tightened. He quickly said, "Your Excellency, our target is also Everett. In that sense, we're actually on the same side, wouldn't you agree?"

Anton shook his head. The middle-aged man's expression changed slightly, and just as he was about to speak, he saw Anton point to the three members of the Dragon Race.

"They are my targets as well."

The middle-aged man paused, then quickly recovered and said, "We can work together."

"No need," Anton refused without a second thought. "They are my prey."

"...As you wish."

The middle-aged man didn't press the issue. In fact, he felt a sense of relief.

The pressure emanating from this man was simply too immense.

'Honestly,' he thought, 'if I had faced that sword light, my chances of survival would have been slim to none.'

The man's power was infinitesimally close to the Golden Peak.

'Probably only an expert who had awakened the Power of Law could guarantee a win against him in a direct confrontation.'

'If a fight were to break out, the best outcome for the three of them would be a desperate escape.'

'Of course, it was more likely they wouldn't even be able to escape.'

'After all, everyone had witnessed the incredible speed of that sword light.'

'This is for the best.'

'In any case, their only goal was to eliminate Everett. It didn't matter who did the deed.'

'And from the looks of it, Canglan wasn't about to let Everett go.'

'As for these three from the Dragon Race, they most likely wouldn't escape either.'

'If they left it to Canglan, they could even save themselves the effort.'

After making a series of excuses for himself, the middle-aged man relaxed considerably.

The Beastman and Hydra also visibly relaxed.

Only the three members of the Dragon Race paled.

"Canglan, do you intend to make an enemy of Kresol Dragon City?" Wilder blustered. "If you kill us, Kresol Dragon City will never forgive you!"

Anton chuckled. "Even if I kill you, who's to say I did it? Everyone will just assume the Fallen Dragon Association was responsible."

At these words, the nearby middle-aged man froze, his expression twisting as if he were constipated.

'It was true, now that he thought about it. Almost everyone involved in tonight's events was dead, leaving only the few of them.'

'The three of them could hardly reveal the truth, and the Fallen Dragon Association would be more than happy to take the credit to expand its own influence.'

'Once he killed the Dragon Race members and Everett, no one would ever know Canglan was the one who did it.'

'The Fallen Dragon Association wouldn't even need to say anything. Given their recent string of activities, everyone would automatically assume they were responsible.'

Though he hadn't actually lost anything, the middle-aged man couldn't shake a strange, unsettling feeling.

The expressions of the three Dragon Race members turned exceptionally grim.

In truth, however, Anton couldn't care less if people knew he was the one responsible.

'After all, he could just assume a new identity whenever he wanted.'

'Kresol Dragon City could search the entire Eldron Plain and never find a trace of Canglan.'

"Alright, that's enough small talk. It's time to send you on your way."

Feeling his True Essence, restored to its peak by the Pill's effect, a sharp glint flashed in Anton's eyes.

The moment his voice fell, a chill shot up the spines of the three Dragon Race members, making their scalps tingle.

Their reactions were incredibly fast.

The instant the sword light shot out from Anton, the three of them scattered like startled beasts, darting in three different directions.

Wilder retreated rapidly, crossing his arms to protect his chest.

Of the other two Dragon Race members, one darted to the west toward the garden's rockery, attempting to use the terrain for cover.

The other made a break for the courtyard wall, intending to vault over it and escape.

But the sword light was far faster than they could react.

The silvery-white light carved a graceful arc through the air, then suddenly veered to pursue the Dragon Race member to the east.

Hearing the air rip behind him, the Dragon Race member's face changed. He spun around, holding his Long Sword horizontally before him with both hands in an attempt to block the attack.

But the sword light swerved in mid-air, bypassing the blade to strike from the side.

The member of the Dragon Race frantically angled his Long Sword to intercept.

But just before impact, the sword light flickered and changed direction again, attacking from the opposite side.

Veins bulged on the Dragon Race member's forehead as he twisted his Long Sword once more.

His reflexes were pushed to their absolute limit, but the silvery-white sword light moved as if it could see the future, striking the weakest point in his defense every time and forcing him to constantly readjust.

After five consecutive feints, the Dragon Race member's back was soaked in cold sweat and his breathing had grown ragged.

On the sixth feint, his movements were a fraction too slow. The sword light tore through the air and, as he watched in utter horror, silently pierced his throat.

Blood sprayed.

The Dragon Race member's pupils dilated. His hands fell limply to his sides, and his Long Sword dropped to the ground with a CLANG.

His body swayed a few times before collapsing to the ground, utterly still.

From the moment the sword light appeared to the Dragon Race member's death, only two breaths had passed.

Wilder and the last member of the Dragon Race hadn't even managed to escape the courtyard before they heard the dull thud of their companion hitting the ground.

They both instinctively looked back just in time to see the body fall, and their pupils constricted.

But they had no time for horror.

The sword light wheeled around in the air and came for them next.

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