Chapter 705: The Verdant Peak’s Last Stand
Peach trees painting a mountain in pinks and greens swayed gently with the breeze. The rustle of their leaves and the sweet scent from their maturing fruits filled the village-sized sect with a lively aura mirrored by cultivators’ activities.
Despite the rain splashing beneath their feet and the fading light of the sun, energetic screams rang out from the training grounds. Disciples filled the streets, haggling over techniques, debating pills, and weighing which weapons were worth saving their sect points for.
But with the soft hum of space tearing open, and the heavy thud of Adam’s boot against the wet earth, their peace was about to vanish—consumed by a storm of raging flames.
A few disciples noticed his youthful figure, but the leaders and elders all felt the disturbance. Instantly, five voices thundered through the streets.
"All nascent soul realm disciples are to evacuate to the sect’s core area this instant. The others, witness the folly of a mage who dared sully our Verdant Peak’s life force with his nauseating mana."
The disciples’ eyes widened as they heeded the command. Those too weak cursed for missing the spectacle, while the few strong enough smirked as the noise of flying swords splitting wind registered.
Adam counted twenty-seven silver streaks before as many men and women landed in front of him. Including the few disciples, a total of thirty-two enemies glared at him, among whom five stood out.
Enchanted robes flapped behind them, the embroideries of flowers and butterflies coming to life with the movements. With a flash of their spatial rings, tight-fitting breastplates, spiked gauntlets, and pauldrons fashioned into tiger or bear’s roaring maws enveloped them. Blades enveloped in crackling fire, roaring winds, or thin yet sharp layers of water formed in their hands as one of them snorted.
"Any last word, bastard of the mage race?"