Chapter 330: Inside the Gate (4)

The young man blocked desperately, raising his sword at a crooked angle. The blades met with a metallic crash that made his teeth grind.

The force behind Kyrian’s attack was overwhelming.

The young man’s feet slid across the stone floor, leaving deep grooves. His arm trembled under the weight of the block. He tried to counterattack, releasing a cutting wind technique directly at Kyrian’s chest, but he simply twisted his body.

The blood dagger sliced the technique in half as if it were paper.

The wind blades dissipated in the air, harmless.

The middle-aged man finally moved.

He appeared beside Kyrian like a ghost, without sound, without warning. His hand transformed into a claw that shone with sharp Qi, so dense it distorted the air around it.

The attack was silent and lethal, aimed at Kyrian’s neck.

A strike meant to kill instantly.

Kyrian turned his head at the last instant.

The claw passed centimeters from his skin, so close he felt the cutting wind against his jugular. Only a few strands of hair were torn away, falling slowly through the air.

Kyrian did not hesitate.

He counterattacked with his elbow, a brutal movement, short and direct. The impact struck the man’s chest with enough force to shatter rock.

The middle-aged man was thrown backward, his body crashing against the opposite wall with a dull thud. He slid across the ground but rose quickly, his eyes now showing something that had not been there before.

Surprise.

He had thought Kyrian was dead in that strike. His attack had been silent, fast, and designed for a professional assassin.

Kyrian had been focused on his young master, distracted by the close-quarters fight. It was the perfect opening.

But Kyrian was not an ordinary fighter.

His peripheral vision never let the older man leave his field of view. Even while exchanging blows with the young man, even while his blood dagger cut through the air, Kyrian kept a corner of his mind, and a corner of his vision, fixed on the guardian, who was the stronger enemy.

The moment the man moved to attack, Kyrian saw it.

And moved.

After that, Kyrian’s expression darkened.

That strike had been faster than he expected. If not for the advantage of his eyes, which allowed him to see everything an instant before the attack materialized, he might have been seriously injured. Perhaps even killed.

The reality of the situation settled over him like a heavy cloak. These two hated him with all their strength for a reason he didn’t even fully understand.

Their enmity was at its peak.

There would be no dialogue. There would be no negotiation. There would be no surrender.

Those two could not leave that place alive.

Kyrian raised the blood dagger, his crimson eyes glowing in the dimness of the chamber. The air around him seemed heavier now, filled with the promise of death.

The young man pushed himself up from the wall, coughing more blood. His white robe was stained red, a red that was not originally its own. His expression shifted between fury and fear.

The middle-aged man positioned himself in front of the young man, his stance now entirely defensive. He had underestimated Kyrian. He would not make the same mistake twice.

“Young Master.” He said, his voice low.

“We will need to fight together.”

The young man gritted his teeth but nodded.

Kyrian watched them, unmoving.

The stone chamber, which had once been a silent tomb, was now an arena of death.

The air in the chamber changed.

Kyrian closed his eyes.

Only for a second. His crimson eyes went dark, and the dimness of the chamber seemed to deepen even further.

The two opponents in front of him exchanged glances, confused.

Why had he closed his eyes? In the middle of a fight? Against two enemies who wanted his death?

It was madness. Or it was a trap.

The White Tower youth hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. But the middle-aged man did not hesitate. He saw the opening, or what seemed to be an opening, and advanced.

“Go!” he shouted, and the young man followed.

The two shot forward at high speed, their figures becoming blurs in the dimness. The young man’s wind Qi cut through the air ahead of him, clearing the way. The older man’s Qi claw shone like a blade ready to sever.

They crossed the chamber in less than a second.

It wasn’t fast enough.

Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed through the chamber.

It was not like the sound of a normal explosion. It was deeper, a thunder that seemed to come from both sky and earth at once, reverberating through the stone walls and making the ancient dust leap from the ground.

An intense violet light illuminated the entire space.

The two opponents charging toward Kyrian were struck by something they could not see. An invisible force, as fast as lightning, because it was lightning, hit them head-on.

The young man was the first to be thrown back. His body arched in the air as if struck by a giant hammer, his arms flung open, and his sword flew from his hand. He slammed into the stone wall with a dull thud that made his back ache just to hear it.

The middle-aged man lasted a little longer. His Qi claw tried to block, but the lightning pierced his defense as if it did not exist. He was hurled against the opposite wall, his body leaving a mark in the stone.

Both spat blood.

The young man coughed, his chest burning. He lifted his head, his eyes scanning the chamber frantically, searching for Kyrian.

“What… what was that?” His voice came out shaky, almost a whisper.

He could not see Kyrian anywhere. Only darkness and dust floating in the air.

That was when he saw.

At the back of the chamber, beyond the opened stone coffin, beyond the platform where the ancestor’s bones lay, two eyes were looking at him.

They were not the crimson eyes from before.

They were purple eyes. Deep as the abyss. With lightning-shaped pupils that pulsed slowly, as if they were waiting.

The chamber lit up and dimmed as lightning danced around Kyrian. Small arcs of electricity leapt from his shoulders to his arms, from his arms to his blood dagger. The sound of thunder was continuous now, a low rumble that made the chest vibrate.

The blood dagger was still in his hand. But now the blood within it glowed with violet reflections, as if the lightning had infused itself into the very essence of the weapon.

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