Chapter 110: Group Battle
"What?" Kazan thought he'd misheard. After a moment, he let out a cold laugh. "I set that trap for demon beasts. Your Palace disciple triggered it. Either you compensate us for our losses, or we fight."
"Senior Brother Leo, we're two men down. A fight puts us at a serious disadvantage."
Luna whispered, worry in her voice. Bally and the others moved closer, ready for anything. Sylas was dead. Dime was useless. The numbers didn't look good.
"Relax. The one on the far left and the second from the right—they're weaker. I'll tie up their leader and create an opening. You take those two out first. Then the numbers are even. We're here for six months. Hundreds of teams are running around this place. If we get a reputation as easy targets, we might as well give up now. So what if we swallow our pride today? We'd be dead either way." Leo's voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp.
"If you're sure, Senior Brother, let's do it." Bally had fought his way up from nothing. He knew how this world worked. And Leo had walked out of that scorpion cave alive. Sylas, with his artifact, hadn't. That wasn't luck.
"So? Decided to pay up? Two three-hundred-year-old herbs. That's all." Kazan pulled out a dark, thick-bladed saber. The moment it appeared, everyone felt it—a magic artifact.
"Senior Brother Kazan, why waste words? We outnumber them. Let's just attack. The Palace's rank is barely above ours anyway. Who knows who'd win?" A hot-headed youth beside him drew his sword, eager for blood.
"Now." Leo's voice was low. The Black Flood Dragon Shears shot forward like black lightning, straight at Kazan. Years of fighting alone in the Moonwatch Mountains had taught him one thing—strike first, strike hard. As the shears flew, he unleashed Ice Soul Mystic Sound. At the same time, he tapped his jade gourd. A cloud of Shadow Ants poured out, buzzing toward the enemy like a dark tide.
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"Attack!" Luna, Bally, and the others charged. Leo's spells caught the enemy off guard. The two weak ones stood frozen, staring blankly. And the ants—hundreds of them—threw the Raksha team into chaos. Hope surged in their chests.
Lucid, usually quiet, surprised everyone. She scattered seeds. Under her spiritual power, they sprouted into Iron Thorn Vines—third-grade, tough enough to hold even top-grade blades. The vines wrapped around the two dazed Raksha disciples. Thorns dug deep. Screams. Bally reached them first. One down. Luna was blocked, but the other, tangled and bitten, was finished.
Numbers even.
"You bastard!" Kazan roared. He grabbed a handful of strange sand—red and blue mixed. Ice-Fire Demon Sand. He threw it. Red sand ignited into a blazing cloud. Ants caught in it screamed and fell. Even two head ants writhed and died. Blue sand turned others into frozen lumps that dropped like stones.
"Ice-Fire Demon Sand!" Luna gasped.
Leo's face hardened. This Southern Wilderness weapon was nasty. Hard to block in a group fight. The sand was everywhere.
"Think you can hide? Try dodging this!" Kazan's voice dripped with rage.
Yak and Zay had pushed too far forward. Red sand hit them. Robes burned. Skin welted. Gritting their teeth, they scrambled back, swallowing pills to fight the fire poison.
"Let's see who runs out first—your sand or my ants." Leo's voice was cold. Both were precious. But there was no time to hesitate. He tapped the gourd again. More ants poured out.
"How many damn ants does this bastard have?" Kazan's shock matched his fury.
Soon, the ground was thick with dead ants. Hundreds lay scattered.
A dark saber cut through the thinning sand and the last few ants, streaking straight for Leo's throat.
Clang! The Black Flood Dragon Shears met it mid-air. Blow after blow. Neither gave ground.
Both Leo and Kazan grabbed mid-grade spirit stones, draining them fast. With their strongest weapons locked in battle, it came down to endurance—who could last longer.
"What are you waiting for? Kill every last one of them!" Bally roared. He summoned a massive yellow python—peak third-stage—and charged. The team, trampling over dead ants, clashed with the remaining Raksha disciples. One of them, a body cultivator, was fierce. His long blade held off both Bally and the python at once.
Sixteen figures fought in the grass. A blur of motion. Then, in a flash, Dime—still weak, not fully recovered, but no longer helpless—snaked a spirit whip around a Raksha disciple's ankle. Zay, locked in combat with him, saw his chance. One thrust. The disciple fell. Zay turned and joined Nyx against another. Outnumbered, he fell quickly.
Leo and Kazan still fought, artifacts deadlocked. Leo watched his teammates from the corner of his eye. If one fell, he'd have to act. But luck—or maybe the choice to save Dime earlier—was on his side. In the critical moment, it was the wounded, half-recovered Dime who tipped the scales.