The Solitary Path to Divinity

When Leo moved, Solon and Angus moved with him, stepping in front of Quiver's archers.

"Not strong enough to fight, but they want the good spots. If they try to pull back when it gets dangerous, I'll put an arrow through their backsides."

Frost and Winnie muttered under their breath. There was no time to argue, and Leo—Leo had shown enough with his spells that no one was about to push him aside.

"Junior Sister Quincy, Junior Sister Vera. Faster. Lowell won't hold much longer." Monty urged from ahead.

"We're coming. Just lead the way." Quincy and Vera followed, their concern for Lowell overriding any caution. Another core disciple meant better odds.

Monty's pace slowed. He turned. His hand moved—a crack, like something brittle breaking. Pink mist poured from between his fingers, right into Quincy and Vera's faces.

They didn't even have time to react. One breath, two, and the spiritual power in their meridians drained away. Their legs gave out. They slumped against the cave wall, barely standing.

"Monty—what did you do?" Quincy's voice cracked, fury and fear mingled.

Vera trembled, too weak even to curse.

Monty's laugh echoed through the cave. "Ever since I saw you, I've been aching for this. Once I've dealt with your fellow disciples, I'll have time to properly... get to know you. Don't bother struggling. That mist will keep your spiritual power sealed for three hours. More than enough time." He pulled them close, one arm around each waist, savoring the feel of their bodies. "Wood, we all get a turn."

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"Monty, you animal! You won't live to see another day!" Vera's voice trembled, but there was no strength behind it.

"Monty, you coward! My grandfather is a Golden Core master of the Palace. If you lay a finger on me, he will grind your bones to dust and scatter your soul until nothing remains." Quincy's voice trembled, but the words came fast. The arrogance was gone. Her face was pale.

"Everyone here dies, Quincy. No one will ever know." Monty's smile was lazy, triumphant.

The cave erupted. Palace disciples stared, frozen for a heartbeat, then scrambled for their weapons. But with Quincy and Vera taken, what chance did they have?

Wood was the first to recover. He hadn't expected his senior brother to have such a trick up his sleeve, but he adapted quickly. "Thank you, Senior Brother." His grin was sharp. With the Palace core disciples gone, this haul would be theirs. Herbs. Artifacts. Women. Everything.

"Damn it! I knew that bastard Monty was rotten to the core. But no—Lowell and those clueless women had to trust that two-faced animal." Solon's voice cracked with fury and despair. He regretted it bitterly now. He had thought following Leo would keep them safe, so he'd pushed ahead—blocking Quiver and the others behind him while the remaining Ice Profound disciples sealed off their rear.

Even when the Evil Valley cultivators and the snake swarm had trapped them before, it had been a matter of terrain. They could have holed up in the cave for days and figured something out. But this? No way out. Nothing but despair.

"Kill them. The one called Leo—leave him alive. I want him myself." Monty's eyes found Leo, cold and satisfied. This nobody who had dared to mouth off to him—he would learn what fear meant.

"Consider it done." Wood's wrist flicked. The blade wheel shot toward Leo's sword hand—the one holding the golden spirit artifact—its teeth spinning at a vicious speed. He didn't need to kill Leo, just disable him. With over twenty cultivators packed in the tunnel about to erupt into chaos, the last thing he wanted was Leo slipping away. Better to take him out of the fight first.

Leo's face was blank. He threw out several Iron Thorn Vine seeds. At the same time, his golden flying sword shot straight at Wood's throat.

"Amateur." Wood sneered. With a slight turn of his wrist, he redirected the wheel, which was tethered to his control cord. A heartbeat, and he would shred that golden sword, along with those few vine seeds, into fragments. Smash the weapons this nobody was counting on—then what would he have left to play with?

Monty, Quincy and Vera in his arms, watched with a satisfied smile. Soon, this would be over.

The wheel tore through the first few seeds, grinding them to pulp. Then Leo threw out more. Ten, a dozen more seeds scattered through the air. Wood's jaw tightened. These vines were nothing—his blade wheel would shred them without trouble. But this brat had more. And Monty wanted him alive. Annoying. Fine. He'd take his time.

The wheel ground the first batch of seeds to nothing, then turned toward the golden sword. But at that moment—

A new presence. A streak of black light, its aura every bit as powerful as the blade wheel, shot straight at Wood's chest.