Chapter 2732: The Unleashing of Power
The Aftermath of Destruction
The battlefield was eerily silent in the wake of Gregory’s devastating move. The air, once filled with the roars and clashes of combat, now reeked of blood and ash.
The warriors who had charged forward moments ago now lay in heaps, either lifeless or writhing in agony.
"How… how is this possible?!" Fatin’s voice trembled as his eyes darted across the scene. His fingers curled tightly, trembling against the hilt of his weapon, while cold sweat poured down his face.
Under the suffocating constraints of the sealing formation, even a Great Grandmaster should have struggled to unleash their power. And yet, Gregory—armed with nothing but a flask of wine—had shattered all expectations.
Though merely at the Early Grandmaster Level, his technique,
Divine Journey Through the Eight Realms, carried the force of a Great Grandmaster. Its destructive power was undeniable; to unleash it again would doom everyone present, Fatin included.
"Retreat!" someone whispered nervously from the shadows, but fear seemed to paralyze their feet.
Gregory, now breathing heavily, glanced across the field. The phantoms he had summoned moments ago shimmered faintly before vanishing back into his body. His complexion was pale, and the beads of sweat on his forehead betrayed the immense toll the technique had taken.
A Fragile Advantage
The battlefield now held only a dozen standing warriors. Among them, the six most powerful black-robed figures were still locked in combat with Dustin, unable to assist. That left Fatin and a few remaining fighters, though most stood frozen, their courage sapped.
Gregory’s piercing gaze fell upon his opponents. His tone was as icy as the edge of his blade.
"Fatin, if you value your life, leave now. Or else, your corpse will join theirs."
Though his energy was nearly depleted, Gregory’s unwavering confidence sent a chill through the remaining fighters. For him, ending the battle without further conflict was a victory in itself.
"Lord Fatin, what should we do? Should we retreat for now?" Arman stammered, clutching his chest as blood seeped through his fingers. His voice wavered, betraying the terror that gripped him.
Fatin’s sharp eyes darted toward Gregory. He clenched his jaw, his voice laced with frustration.
“What are you panicking for? Gregory is bluffing. He’s spent—like a candle in the wind! Don’t let him scare you!”
Arman hesitated, the fear in his eyes lingering.
“But… our forces are nearly gone. If we continue, we’ll gain nothing. Retreating and regrouping might be the wiser choice…”
Fatin’s patience snapped.
"To hell with your cowardice!" His hand flew out, striking Arman across the face. The slap echoed sharply, silencing the whispers of retreat. His voice boomed with fury.
“If this mission fails, we’re all dead anyway! Anyone who dares flee now will face death at Lord Andrey’s hands!”
The Last Stand
The fire in Fatin’s eyes blazed with desperation. His back was against the wall, and retreat wasn’t an option. He reached into his cloak, producing two small vials filled with a glowing amber liquid.
"Here. Drink this," he commanded, tossing one vial to Arman. His voice grew grim.
“This is an S-rank enhancement potion. It will amplify your strength far beyond its limits. I didn’t earn these easily, so don’t waste it!”
Arman’s eyes widened as he caught the vial.
“Thank you, Lord Fatin! I… I won’t let you down!” He held the potion tightly, the glow of its contents reflecting his renewed determination.
"This is our last chance,” Fatin growled, uncorking his own vial.
“We fight now, or we die later. Better to fall in battle than face disgrace!”
With a swift motion, Fatin downed the potion. The golden liquid coursed through his veins, igniting his body with raw power. His muscles rippled, and his aura surged, scattering the lingering shadows around him.
Arman followed suit, drinking his potion in one gulp. A fiery strength coursed through him, and he clenched his fists, marveling at his newfound vigor.
"For Lord Andrey!" Fatin roared, his voice shaking the heavens.
The remaining fighters steeled themselves, their fear momentarily overshadowed by the ferocious energy radiating from their leaders. Gregory, however, stood unwavering, his blade gleaming faintly in the dim light.
To Fight or to Die
The tension hung in the air as both sides prepared for the final clash. Fatin’s eyes burned with a mixture of rage and desperation, while Gregory’s weary stance masked an unyielding resolve.
In this game of survival, neither side could afford to falter.
And as the silence broke with the thunderous sound of advancing footsteps, the battlefield was once again engulfed in chaos.
Chapter 2733: The Path of Blood
A Choice of Desperation
Fatin's hands trembled slightly as he gripped his blade. The surge of power from the enhancement potion coursed through his veins, threatening to tear him apart. He had already consumed one vial, and the thought of taking another in such quick succession was a gamble that bordered on suicide.
Yet, there was no time for hesitation. The battlefield offered no mercy, no respite, and no second chances.
"Either I annihilate them… or I take my own life in disgrace."
With a roar that seemed to shake the heavens, Fatin charged forward. His blade gleamed like a crescent moon, slicing through the oppressive night.
"Kill!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the chaos.
Tonight, it was kill or be killed. The line between hero and villain blurred as the battlefield demanded only survival.
The Crumbling Defenses
Beyond the grand hall of Dragon Tiger Mountain, the air was alive with the relentless fury of hundreds of elite warriors. Waves of powerful attacks crashed against the protective mountain formation, their combined force producing deafening explosions that reverberated through the night.
The once-unyielding barrier of Dragon Tiger Mountain now flickered with instability, each successive strike sapping its strength. It was clear to all present—the barrier would not hold much longer.
Inside the grand hall, Spencer stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm and calculating. The masters of Dragon Tiger Mountain surrounded him, their faces grim yet resolute.
Jeremy rushed into the hall, his breathing ragged as he delivered his report.
"Senior Brother, the protective formation is on the brink of collapse! It won’t hold for more than a stick of incense!”
Spencer’s eyes remained fixed on the distance, unblinking. His voice, steady and commanding, broke the tense silence.
"Let it fall."
Jeremy blinked in surprise, but Spencer’s expression did not waver.
"Order the disciples to form Twelve Minor Arrays. Let them in and turn our defense into offense. I want none of these invaders to leave alive."
"Understood, Senior Brother!" Jeremy saluted sharply before rushing out to relay the orders.
Moments later, the protective barrier shimmered one final time before vanishing completely.
The Battle Unleashed
For a brief moment, silence hung over the battlefield as the shimmering barrier dissipated. The warriors of the Pantheon, caught off guard by the sudden collapse, hesitated. But it was only for a heartbeat.
Then, with a deafening roar, they surged forward like a tidal wave. Weapons clanged against armor, and battle cries filled the air.
"Slay the demons and exorcise the evil!"
"Kill!"
The disciples of Dragon Tiger Mountain were ready. As the invaders poured into the grand hall, hundreds of masters sprang into action, their formations precise and deadly.
In an instant, the hall became a cauldron of chaos. Blades clashed with explosive force, the air filled with the sound of grunts, screams, and the metallic clang of weapons.
The first large-scale clash between Dragon Tiger Mountain and the Pantheon had begun.
A Predator’s Patience
High above the chaos, the Bear King Andrey stood atop one of Dragon Tiger Mountain’s buildings, his imposing figure silhouetted against the night sky. His arms were crossed, and his expression was one of cold detachment as he observed the fierce battle raging below.
Andrey’s focus wasn’t on the unfolding carnage—it was on the man who had yet to appear.
Phantom Richards.
The man hailed as the
North Star of Martial Arts and the Dragonmarsh’s most formidable master. His presence alone was a beacon of stability for the martial realm. Eliminating him would plunge the Dragonmarsh into chaos.
"Once Phantom shows himself," Andrey muttered under his breath,
"I’ll bring the full force of the Pantheon down upon him."
It was a plan carefully calculated to perfection. The chaos caused by Phantom’s death would be enough to fracture the Dragonmarsh’s martial realm, leaving it vulnerable to the Pantheon’s calculated strikes.
Andrey’s lips curled into a faint smile. Two birds with one stone—destroying Dragon Tiger Mountain and erasing the martial world’s greatest obstacle in one fell swoop.
Now, all that remained was for Phantom to emerge. And when he did, Andrey would ensure there was no escape.
The Gathering Storm
The battle below intensified, with neither side willing to yield. Blood flowed like rivers, and the moonlight cast an eerie glow over the chaos.
The warriors of Dragon Tiger Mountain fought with the ferocity of cornered beasts, while the Pantheon’s forces struck with merciless precision.
But somewhere, within the storm of battle cries and clashing blades, the shadow of a greater confrontation loomed—one that would determine the fate of the martial realm itself.
And above it all, the Bear King waited.
Summary:
The battlefield is steeped in tension as Gregory unleashes his devastating technique,
Divine Journey Through the Eight Realms, overwhelming the enemy forces and leaving most dead or incapacitated. Despite his lower cultivation level as an Early Grandmaster, Gregory's powerful display sends fear rippling through his opponents, including the formidable Fatin. However, the strain of the attack leaves Gregory severely weakened, forcing him to rely on intimidation to dissuade further aggression.
Fatin, unwilling to retreat and face punishment from his superior, Lord Andrey, rallies his forces by distributing enhancement potions. These potions temporarily amplify their strength but come at great personal risk. Fatin, now resolved to fight to the death, charges forward in a desperate attempt to turn the tide.
Meanwhile, outside the grand hall of Dragon Tiger Mountain, hundreds of elite Pantheon warriors relentlessly assault the mountain’s protective barrier. Inside, the Dragon Tiger Mountain disciples, led by Spencer, prepare for a strategic counterattack. Spencer allows the barrier to fall, ordering his disciples to form Twelve Minor Arrays to trap and decimate the invaders.
The first large-scale confrontation between Dragon Tiger Mountain and the Pantheon ensues. Both sides clash with ferocity, filling the air with the sounds of battle cries, screams, and the clash of weapons. Amidst the chaos, the Bear King Andrey watches from above, his true goal being the elimination of Phantom Richards, the
North Star of Martial Arts and the Dragonmarsh’s greatest defender.
Andrey’s plan is clear: by killing Phantom, he aims to destabilize the Dragonmarsh’s martial world, paving the way for the Pantheon to conquer it. As the battle rages below, Andrey patiently waits for Phantom to appear, ready to strike the decisive blow and bring his master plan to fruition.
The stage is set for a battle of legendary proportions, where the fate of the martial realm hangs in the balance.
