Chapter 435: Confronting the Enemy

'Hmph.'

Virgil sneered contemptuously—could it really be in the sky? With my eighth-rank perception, how could I not sense it?

Wait.

Shadow?

Thinking thus.

He suddenly changed expression, raising his hand to fling a dagger.

The dagger shimmered with white spiritual radiance—clearly no ordinary weapon.

Thwip!

The thick wood was pierced, emitting a dull, heavy thud.

The next instant.

From the dagger's tip, the entire space was instantly illuminated, a blindingly intense light erupting violently.

Like the sun descending abruptly, it flooded the parlor with a sharp, brilliant whiteness.

So intense was the glow that from outside the window, it looked as if the room had been filled entirely with white.

'Aaaah!!!'

Bugo Torres screamed in terror.

'Mr. Virgil?!!'

Virgil ignored the traitor's cries; in the instant the flash erupted, he shielded his eyes and unleashed his eighth-rank warrior perception.

Extremely swiftly.

He spotted a unnatural shadow on the ceiling—unchanged even by the brilliant light.

'Even the Radiant Dagger's dispelling effect can't reveal you?'

Virgil was startled internally, yet his hand didn't pause—he flung a bone spike.

The bone spike flew at blinding speed, about to pierce the shadow—when suddenly an arm emerged from within it.

Clang!

The spike struck the palm like hitting a steel wall, its tip shattering.

The next instant.

A tall man descended from the shadow as if wading through thick mud, unhurried, then obeyed gravity, landing lightly as if weightless upon the parlor's carpet.

He wore a worn black cloak, his posture upright, aura haughty; even though his face was blurred and unseen, one glance revealed him to be an exceptionally handsome man.

Virgil frowned.

The man's spiritual foundation was far denser and more substantial than an ordinary seventh-rank—simply standing there, he radiated an invisible pressure like a dragon's gaze.

He steadied his gaze, shed his condescension, and did not strike immediately: 'Sir, did you rescue Venna Puel?'

There was no mortal enmity between them; Virgil didn't believe Venna Puel still had loyal followers left to rescue her under such public scrutiny.

Thus, this man was most likely a passerby—either lured by treasure, captivated by beauty, or both.

After all, the last surviving daughter of the Puel family was indeed a rare beauty.

'Friend, shall we talk?'

The man—Luo De—smiled:

'Nothing to discuss.'

He stepped forward slowly; his worn black cloak stirred without wind, billowing and snapping loudly.

Pale blue-white mist rose gently along the cloak's outline.

Virgil frowned slightly, seized the still-screaming Bugo Torres, and hurled him far away.

Then he advanced resolutely toward Luo De.

With each step, his body swelled slightly, his aura and surrounding spiritual energy rising higher, pressing downward.

By the time he descended the steps of the lord's throne, his white private regiment uniform had been utterly torn apart, revealing a muscular torso crisscrossed with sutures.

'What is life for, if not to seek something? Wealth, power, women? The Sertalin—have you heard of them?'

'Yes. Trash on par with the Ruin Brotherhood.'

'Think what you will—the means don't matter. I assume you overheard our earlier conversation. Interested in the Naga mother and daughter? They're far more entertaining than human women. After training them, I'll let you play with them for two days.'

As he spoke.

The two stood only five meters apart, their overwhelming auras colliding, dense spiritual masses pressing and crushing against each other.

Boom—

Luo De chuckled twice.

The next instant, like a starting pistol firing, both moved at once!

Luo De's inner wrist unleashed a Slime Black Sword; dense spiritual particles rapidly gathered, filling the blade before it even swung.

Virgil launched a furious charge; his two-and-a-half-meter-tall frame radiated terrifying presence, his massively swollen, tumor-like arm swinging violently, delivering a simple, brutal straight punch.

Whoosh!

The colossal spiritual greatsword clashed with the ferocious fist!

The resulting shockwave erupted outward violently—in an instant, the parlor's floor-to-ceiling windows shattered, carpets, tables, chairs, and decorations torn apart or smashed, leaving utter ruin.

The shockwave did not cease.

Sword and fist clashed furiously.

Sharp sword qi and powerful punch forces erupted outward, devastating walls and stone pillars with furious sword scars and punch craters, accompanied by rumbling tremors.

But this furious exchange did not last long.

Tss—

A black fragment of broken sword suddenly flew out of the turbulent energy mass, still sharp with residual spiritual energy, piercing a marble pillar like it was tofu.

Virgil sneered coldly.

His eighth-rank massive fist, having shattered the black blade, retained its momentum and slammed squarely into Luo De's chest—like a giant's punch, overwhelming and immense.

Luo De narrowed his eyes, forcibly suppressing the urge to use 【Reflection Dodge】, letting the fist strike home.

The violent punch force pressed against 【Dragon Scale Technique】, emitting a series of cracking sounds.

The Dragon Scale, enhanced by 【Protection Domain】, barely held without injury.

Still, he was flung backward like a cannonball, crashing into a wall lined with hanging paintings, instantly burying him under rubble.

This gave Luo De a rough sense of Virgil's strength.

In terms of the Brass Spiritual Ball reading, roughly 390 marks.

Luo De currently stood at 341 marks—fully fifty marks weaker.

But then again.

This Virgil was a physique-specialized type—a brute-force, tank-style spiritual warrior.

Such warriors poured all resources into their bodies, strengthening them through intense training and drugs, rarely using spiritual arts or spells.

Judging by his entire body covered in sutures and unevenly colored muscle skin, he likely used other methods too.

'Oh?'

Virgil glanced at the deep, bone-exposing sword wounds on his chest, then raised his right hand to examine his fist.

He was slightly surprised: 'Only seventh-rank? And you still managed to wound me?'

As he spoke.

The muscles on his chest began to writhe and compress, sealing the bleeding wounds shut.

Only then did he coldly gaze at the collapsed wall: 'But this ends here. How long can you keep going?'

Whoosh—

Luo De brushed aside the rubble and rose slowly.

Honestly, this eighth-rank brute-force specialist was no joke.

In raw strength, even with multiple power boosts, Luo De was still only a low-seventh-rank—he truly couldn't match him without using 【Power Liberation】.

Against such an opponent, a mage's best tactic is to stack debuffs to weaken the body's resilience.

Spiritual warriors can shift from slashing to blunt strikes, using shock and mass to target the comparatively weaker internal organs.

Luo De planned to use both methods.

He retrieved the 【Extreme Cold Pearl】 from 【The Great Cultivator's Pruning Shears】 and gently tossed it upward.

(End of Chapter)