Chapter 174: The Blood-Fiend Flower Demon

The Frost Golems moved with astonishing speed once airborne. They did not merely drift upward; they surged into the mist like arrows loosed from an unseen bow. As they flew, they released continuous orbs of chilling blue light that streaked through the sky in precise arcs. Each orb that struck a Mist Vulture triggered a sharp, piercing screech. The moment they were hit, the vultures abandoned all thought of retreat and hurled themselves toward the golems, circling and clawing at them with reckless, suicidal obsession.

It was a masterful display of control.

With a single sweeping circuit through the upper mist, the Frost Golems had gathered all twenty-plus fleeing vultures into one furious cluster. They descended together in a tight spiral, dragging the entire airborne mob with them. The instant the golems’ cloudlike lower halves touched the ground, the Flower Demon, who had been waiting with unhurried patience, made its move.

It seemed almost offended by the vultures’ earlier attempt to escape.

Instead of conjuring the controlled waves of fire Marcus had witnessed before, the demon lifted its branch-like arms and slashed through the air. A storm answered the gesture. Scarlet petals burst into existence by the hundreds, then the thousands, swirling outward in a violent bloom. Each petal was thin as silk and sharp as honed steel. They did not drift gently; they carved through the air in whistling arcs, slicing into the trapped vultures from every direction.

The sky turned red.

Petals layered over petals, forming a dense, suffocating tempest that swallowed the entire flock. Screeches overlapped, then broke off abruptly. When the storm finally dispersed, nothing remained but falling ash and fading health bars.

The trial was complete.

Marcus remained crouched behind his pillar, watching carefully. The Flower Demon’s clearing speed had been nearly identical to his own. The title of Demonic Prodigy was no empty boast. In raw efficiency and battlefield control, it stood on equal footing with him, perhaps even matching the unnatural advantages he carried.

’It is time to move,’ Marcus decided, feeling heat stir in his chest.

He had not crossed paths with someone this formidable in a long while, and the eerie courtyard of Mist Veil Palace only sharpened the thrill. He wanted to know, beyond doubt, who stood higher. The pride of the Demon Clan, or the anomaly who had clawed his way upward through broken mechanics and relentless instinct.

Confidence was not the issue. He believed he could win.

The Flower Demon was already drifting closer to the eight newly respawned Headless Cavalrymen. Those riders were walking treasure chests, and Marcus had no intention of watching someone else harvest them. More than that, curiosity burned within him. The so-called Demonic Artifact the prodigy carried had been spoken of with reverence. He wanted to see whether it could truly rival the Divine-grade item in his possession.

A reckless part of him wanted to step out openly and issue a challenge, to cross blades in full view and savor the clash.

The colder, sharper part of him crushed that impulse immediately. Only fools reject an advantage freely handed to them.

“Sanctuary Covenant.”

“Desperate Strike.”

He invoked Sanctuary Covenant and summoned Pebble in a flash of light. Without hesitation, master and guardian moved as one. In perfect synchronization, they hurled their Level 30 longswords. The blades sliced through the mist like twin streaks of lightning, aimed straight at the Flower Demon’s core.

-3,500!

-2,500!

The damage numbers burst into view.

Marcus allowed himself a grin. There was a certain art to ambush. It required patience, timing, and the willingness to strike without ceremony. Not everyone had the nerve for it.

With a sharp whistle, he urged his Nightmare Dragon Steed forward. The mount thundered across the courtyard, hooves pounding against stone. At the same time, Marcus summoned Goldie, the Shadow-Stained Gryphon King. The massive beast materialized overhead, wings spreading wide as it dove into position.

In a heartbeat, the trap tightened. A rider from the front, a guardian at his flank, a gryphon descending from above.

Marcus had already calculated the distance.

As he closed in, he activated Insight on the demon while drawing the Bat Dragon Cloud Sword. His plan was simple. Reach the target alongside Pebble, unleash a synchronized Dragon-Roar Critical Strike, and end the fight before the prodigy could recover.

Ding.

“Congratulations, Stonehaven. Your Insight skill has leveled up to Level 2. Skill effects have been enhanced.”

The notification flashed briefly in his vision. He did not pause to inspect the upgrade. Instead, he focused on the revealed stats of his opponent.

—

Blood-Fiend Flower Demon

Tier: Level 30 High Gold-tier Boss

Health: 10,000

Description: Born in the Nine Realms Caves of the Demon Realm, nourished by the blood spilled in endless battles between high-level magical beasts, this cluster of bloodthirsty and beguiling flowers formed a sentient leader. The Blood-Fiend Flower Demon commands formidable magic, manipulates multiple elements, and drains life through its attacks.

Skills:

Intermediate Elemental Magic: Capable of casting various mid-tier elemental spells.

Bloodlust, passive: Inflicts continuous bleeding and grants ten percent life-steal on all attacks.

Dancing Blood-Petals: Releases a violent storm of blood-red petals that deals massive damage and carries a scent capable of stunning opponents for three seconds.

Blood-Fiend Wreath: A blooming energy barrier that knocks back all enemies within five meters and causes knockdown.

Earth-Shift: While in contact with the ground, the demon may teleport instantly within a five-meter radius.

—

Marcus felt a flicker of unease.

’That is a bit excessive.’

This was no elite mob. It was a genuine Level 30 High Gold-tier Boss with a complete and versatile skill set. Ten thousand health. Crowd control. Sustain. Mobility. Defensive burst.

Even so, his ambush had been devastating. Between him and Pebble, they had already carved away six thousand health in a single exchange. If the Dragon-Roar Critical Strike connected cleanly and Goldie added its aerial damage, the so-called prodigy would collapse into nothing more than experience and loot. Gold-tier was impressive, but it was not insurmountable.

No wonder the Demon Clan had repeatedly failed to reclaim the Dragon-Horse Lyre.

“Kill.”

“Dragon-Roar Critical Strike!”

As the Nightmare Dragon Steed thundered into range, Marcus roared, pouring momentum into the charge. Pebble accelerated beside him. The plan was brutal and simple: trample the mage-type Boss before it could stabilize, crush it beneath steel and hooves, and end the battle in one decisive burst.

“Blood-Fiend Wreath.”

A crimson bud blossomed abruptly at the demon’s center. It swelled in a heartbeat, unfolding into a spectral flower three meters wide. Translucent crimson petals layered into a circular barrier just as Marcus and Pebble reached striking distance.

-150!

-200!

THUD.

The impact never reached the demon.

Instead, a violent force erupted outward from the blooming barrier. Marcus and Pebble were hurled backward, thrown five full meters across the courtyard. Marcus absorbed one hundred fifty damage; Pebble took two hundred and nearly lost his footing upon landing.

’So that is what it was.’

Marcus understood at once. He had assumed the demon’s lack of reaction meant it had been stunned by the ambush. In truth, it had been calmly pre-casting its defensive skill.

The realization irritated him.

A mage-type Boss should have feared close combat. Its fragile body ought to crumble under sustained melee pressure. Yet this Blood-Fiend Wreath changed the equation entirely. It created breathing room on demand, forcing melee fighters back and buying the demon precious seconds to retaliate.

Still, Marcus was not limited to melee.

His lips curved upward when he saw that Desperate Strike had already come off cooldown.

Nice attempt.

“Desperate Strike!”

He roared again. He and Pebble moved in perfect rhythm, preparing to hurl their weapons once more. This time, there would be no charge, no trample. Just raw burst.

The blade flew.

-6,000!

The number exploded across his vision, massive and unmistakable. The strike had landed with overwhelming force, amplified by critical damage far beyond its base value.

And yet the demon still stood.

Marcus’s eyes widened. Even stranger, Pebble had not thrown his weapon.

’What just happened?’

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