Chapter 128: Rotating Shifts
Leo retreated faster than both of them, slipping back into the cave in a flash. Angus watched his speed and wondered, not for the first time, whether the rumors about him beating Lowell were even true.
"Water Ball Technique."
A few soft, soggy water balls splashed against the dozen or so black snakes charging toward them.
"Senior Brother Leo, water balls won't do anything to demon beasts." Solon, lagging slightly, called out with a wry smile.
Before the words left his mouth, he saw Leo follow up with three small crackling lightning orbs. They shot forward—slow, useless in open ground, but in the narrow cave, the snakes had nowhere to hide.
Crackle. The sharp smell of scorched flesh filled the tight space. The water balls had done their work; the lightning exploded in the middle of the swarm, arcs jumping from snake to snake. Not fatal, but the lead beasts froze for a heartbeat. Just long enough.
Leo's fingers moved. The golden sword flashed, cutting down one paralyzed snake after another.
Solon and Angus stared for a moment, then grinned. Their own swords flew, joining the slaughter.
After cutting down over a dozen black snakes—including two third-grade ones—Leo's protective shield gave way, eaten through by the snakes' venom. He stepped back without hesitation.
Solon and Angus exchanged a look and fell back with him. They weren't beginners. They knew that purer techniques meant less drain, more power. They still had plenty left. And Leo—his spells were practically art. He'd burned through less than they had, swapping out two spirit stones the whole time.
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But the swarm was endless. Three of them had taken down over a dozen in minutes. Good enough. No point killing themselves doing someone else's work. In this place, staying sharp meant staying alive.
Solon shot a look at the Ice Profound Sect disciples as they pulled back. Wood and his people frowned but they couldn't deny the other side's performance. So the man who had stood up to Monty had some skill. But a few basic spells didn't make him a core disciple. Wood gestured sharply. Three of his best moved up to take the vacated spots.
Not wanting to bring shame to the Ice Profound Sect, Wood picked strong fighters. One of them, a sharp-featured woman, released a yellow mongoose—a natural enemy of snakes. The swarm shrank back, confused. The mongoose tore through six or seven, including a third-grade snake, before a bite sent it limping back to its master.
The woman shot Solon a proud look. Solon rubbed his nose. He hadn't expected them to have something like that. Leo glanced at the creature once, then closed his eyes. The woman's triumph deflated.
Snake corpses piled up. The two sides rotated, each trying to outdo the other. A good showing from the Palace brought smug looks; a better one from the Ice Profound Sect brought smirks.
One of their disciples, a stocky youth named Bear, tried to copy Leo's water-and-lightning combination. It looked simple enough. Water balls, then lightning. Perfect for stunning the lead snakes before cutting them down.
He threw his water balls, then reached for the lightning.
It wasn't that easy. The timing was wrong. The snakes were almost on him before his spell was halfway formed. His two teammates, suddenly alone against the swarm, scrambled to cover him. He panicked. The spell slipped. Lightning lashed out at his own people.
A dozen wind blades from the snakes cut one disciple down. Another lost an arm. Bear was dragged back by Wood just in time.
Everyone turned to look at Leo. What seemed simple—it wasn't.
They rotated again. The snakes kept coming. When the tide swelled too high, Vera's net went up, and both sides pulled back. Lowell and Monty took the next shift. Then back again.
After several rounds, the swarm had thinned. A few more shifts, Leo figured, and they'd be done. The Ginseng would be theirs. The tension eased; faces brightened.
"You go in without me. I'm done. Same snakes, same cave—boring. And I've killed more than any of you anyway."
Quincy, tired of the game, waved them off. The novelty had worn off. The stench was unbearable. She was done.
Leo, Vera, and the others acted as if they hadn't heard. Lowell looked conflicted. Quincy had a Golden Core grandfather backing her—the rest of them, even the core disciples, only had Foundation Establishment connections at best. Foundation Establishment Pills, they had to earn themselves. Lowell was no exception.
"That's fine. Someone of Quincy's standing shouldn't have to rough it with the rest of us. Besides, your side has three core disciples to our two. We're already getting the better end of this." Monty made a show of generosity. "You rest, Quincy. We'll handle the rest."
Quincy smiled. "Thank you, Monty."