Void Cultivation-Chapter 160- Demon Grey(2)
That man had once posed a real threat to his life. And though Grey had been immersed in his enlightenment at the time, he was no longer willing to leave such danger lingering in the world. The young companion of that man was already dead, one more corpse beneath the sands of fate. Now, it was time to deal with the master.
Besides, Grey reasoned, who could say whether that old man had marked him as well?
To ensure his future safety, there could be no loose ends. And so, with the cold wind at his back and decisive esolve in his heart, Grey advanced through Green City, his steps were silent, his presence fleeting... like an unknown phantom of the storm.
The old man moved like a streak of fading light, his tattered robe fluttering wildly as he sped through the deserted streets. His steps were uneven, frantic, but his speed was astonishing for someone of his apparent age. Each breath he drew was laced with panic, every heartbeat echoing the dreadful omen gnawing at his soul.
That suffocating sense of danger, it wasn’t a mere illusion. It grew heavier with every passing moment, pressing down upon him like the heavens themselves had marked his death.
’Why? Why won’t it fade? His thoughts were in turmoil, his spiritual sea trembling violently. I’ve already escaped the city’s inner wards... so why do I still feel this dreadful intent closing in? What... what did I do wrong to invoke such calamity?’
But his legs never faltered. He couldn’t stop now, and not when the exit was in sight.
Ahead, the colossal gates of Green City loomed like a promise of freedom. The old man’s eyes brightened, relief flashing across his aged face. "Finally... the Whistling Fields," he muttered between gasps.
The Whistling Fields... a vast, desolate desert stretching beyond the horizon, infamous for its treacherous storms and spiritual anomalies. Even Foundation Establishment experts dared not tread carelessly upon its sands. But to him, it was salvation.
If that demon, ’Grey’, chose to pursue him there, he would lose all advantage. The desert was too wide, the winds too unpredictable. Even a genius blessed by the heavens could not control the whims of the Whistling Fields.
A faint glimmer of confidence surfaced in the old man’s heart. Hidden beneath his robes, faint runes flickered briefly across his skin,signs of a strange Art that pulsed with eerie light. That was his trump card, a forbidden technique that shielded him from both heat and storm. Without it, he would never have dared to step into such a land of death.
Yet just as the thought brought him a shred of comfort, the feeling struck again, it was sharper this time, piercing directly into his soul.
His body stiffened. His heart lurched violently in his chest.
The killing intent was no longer distant... it was here.
It emanated from the very direction of the city’s exit.
His pupils constricted to pinpoints. "Impossible..." he whispered hoarsely. "He... he caught up already!?"
An invisible chill swept over him. His spiritual sense screamed in alarm, warning him that the shadow of death was descending upon him once more. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢
’How can this be? Even at my full speed... even after using a movement talisman, he still caught up!?’ The old man’s thoughts spiraled into disbelief and fear. His once-rosy complexion drained of all color, turning ashen and ghostly.
It felt as though an unseen blade hung suspended above his head, its edge glinting with invisible menace, poised to fall at any given instant. The very air around him thickened, a dense, cold, and oppressive pressing upon his chest like the weight of a silent storm about to break.
When Grey sensed the faint thread of connection he shared with the old man beginning to wane, his expression hardened, a subtle frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "So, he’s aware after all." His voice was low, almost conversational, yet it carried the sharpness of steel drawn from its sheath. A faint, predatory gleam flickered in his eyes. "It seems I made the right choice in marking him as well."
Though his tone was calm, it could not conceal the killing intent simmering beneath each word was like a suffocating malice that bled into the very air.
In the next heartbeat, Grey’s speed exploded. The ground beneath him cracked faintly as his figure blurred, and a torrent of killing intent surged forth like a crimson tide. It wasn’t mere bloodlust, it was an oppressive, almost tangible force that coiled around him in threads of scarlet light, snaring the air itself. Those threads seemed to twist and writhe, as though eager to devour life wherever they touched.
Though his physical form was still cloaked by his disguise, the faint illusion of a purple moon shimmered deep within his pupils, like an omen of death and silent fury. The aura radiating from him transformed into something far more dreadful: a formless, icy breath of mortality that made the souls of those nearby tremble.
Within a five-meter radius, cultivators felt it most keenly. Their instincts screamed at them to flee, to avoid the approaching shadow that carried the scent of inevitable death. The uninitiated, unable to see the aura for what it was, merely shuddered without understanding why.
At that same moment, the cold core within Grey’s body began to pulse rhythmically, circulating frigid yin energy alongside the spirit energy coursing through his meridians. The two forces intertwined and harmonized, amplifying his power until his very presence chilled the world around him. Frost seemed to cling to his aura, and his breath left trails of mist in the air.
The wind that was sensitive to his will, silently shifted in his favor. It coiled and swept around him in graceful patterns, carrying him forward with effortless speed. Cloaked in cold and silence, Grey moved like a wraith of vengeance, a reaper born of shadow and moonlight, drawn toward his prey by threads of fate and fury.
And in that fleeting moment, all who felt his presence understood one thing... something terrible had awakened, and it would not stop until the debt of blood was paid in full.
**☺️😉**
