Wutong Mountain Range.
At the entrance of the Low-Tier Xuanbird Relic, the camp was a scene of carnage.
Bodies lay scattered in every direction—blood pooled thick on the dirt, soaking into the soil and drawing the attention of the forest's predators.
A hungry wolf crept closer, baring its teeth as it prepared to sink them into a corpse.
But before it could—
"Stop!"
A thunderous shout echoed through the forest.
Whoosh!
A violent gust swept across the clearing.
The wolf was lifted off its feet, hurled several dozen meters away, and landed with a sickening crack—dead on impact.
The man who had appeared—the one who delivered that fatal blow—was none other than Lian Jie, Guildmaster of the Tongcheng Ability Users Guild, leading his team to reinforce the site.
Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!
Moments later, four third-tier ability users followed behind him, quickly arriving at the scene.
They surveyed the silent, blood-soaked camp.
Everywhere they looked, there was nothing but stillness… and death.
All four men frowned deeply.
"Guildmaster," one of them muttered, his expression tense, "something's wrong."
Lian Jie said nothing.
He activated Shave, his figure vanishing into a blur as he sped deeper into the camp.
He weaved between the corpses until he reached the center—
and froze.
There, standing alone amid the devastation, was a single figure.
At first glance, it appeared to be a man—
but on closer look… it wasn't alive.
Its gray skin was stiff, its eyes lifeless—
a corpse, barely upright.
The instant the corpse saw Lian Jie, it twisted its head slowly and grinned—
a chilling, unnatural smile spreading across its face.
Then—
Before Lian Jie could even react, the corpse collapsed to the ground.
A wisp of black smoke erupted from its chest, rising briefly before dispersing under the sunlight.
Lian Jie froze, his eyes narrowing.
Then realization struck—his expression changed sharply.
"No… this is bad!"
A sense of dread coiled in his chest.
He spun on his heel and bolted toward Tongcheng, moving at full speed.
As he ran, he pulled out his communication device, voice tight with urgency.
About four or five li away, in a ravine near the Wutong Mountains, a middle-aged man with a square face—Di Wenbin, the Tongcheng Admiral—answered the call.
"Lian, what's the situation? Was it really a Demon Cult trap?"
"Di! Hurry—hurry! Get back to Tongcheng now!"
Lian Jie's voice came through the line, full of panic.
"We've been fooled! It's a decoy—the Demon Cult bastards used a lure-away strategy! Their real target is Tongcheng!"
"What!?"
Di Wenbin's face went pale.
Without another word, he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, racing back toward the city.
But at that same moment—
Outside Tongcheng No. 1 High School, the gray Baling van suddenly roared to life.
Its tires screeched against the pavement—
and the vehicle accelerated straight toward the school gates.
The driver didn't slow down.
CRASH!!!
The van smashed through the front gate with a thunderous impact, metal twisting as it barreled into the campus.
Then, from within the wrecked vehicle, eight men in black cloaks leaped out one after another.
Each cloak bore the same grotesque symbol—
a demon's snarling face, drawn in blood-red ink.
All eight were third-tier ability users.
"Hey, you there! Who are you?!"
Two school security guards rushed forward.
But before they could even process what they were seeing—
One of the cultists vanished in a blur.
A flash of cold steel—
Swish!
Two heads flew through the air, blood spraying the ground.
The guards' bodies fell lifelessly beside the ruined gate.
Against third-tier ability users, the two barely even counted as resistance.
"Go," hissed the leader of the cultists, his tone dripping with malice.
"Go forth and slaughter! Turn this school into a cradle of fear and despair! Kekekekekeke!"
At his command, the seven others burst into motion—
charging toward the nearby classroom buildings.
The sound of their boots pounded against the courtyard pavement, echoing alongside the distant screams.
Inside the school, chaos erupted almost instantly.
The crash, the screams—it drew everyone's attention.
Teachers and students spilled into the hallways, peering out windows, trying to make sense of the madness.
Then someone shouted:
"It's the Demon Cult!"
"They're here!"
"Everyone stay calm! Follow my instructions!"
Panic spread like wildfire.
Screams, shouts, and orders overlapped, filling the air.
In one of the second-floor classrooms, Zhao Xuan frowned as the noise grew louder outside.
"What's going on down there?"
He stood up, intending to look outside—
but before he could take a step—
BOOM!!!
The classroom door exploded inward, splintering off its hinges.
A man in a black robe, face twisted with sadistic glee, stormed in.
He scanned the terrified students like a wolf eyeing prey—
and smiled.
"Fall into despair, my lovely lambs."
His voice was raspy, dripping with malice.
Then his blood-stained curved blade came down—
aimed straight for Li Jiangzhang, the student sitting by the door.
"Li Jiangzhang!"
"Look out!"
"Ahhhhh!!"
The screams came all at once.
Li Jiangzhang froze, eyes wide in disbelief.
Though he was one of the stronger students in class, he had never seen death this close.
The pressure of the cultist's killing intent pinned him in place.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't even breathe.
And in that split second—
the blade was already descending toward his neck.
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