Chapter 382 380-The Emergence of the Shadow Clan
Ethan's pupils constricted, a flicker of light and shadow dancing in his eyes, betraying a deep gravity of thought.
In the midst of the battlefield, where he had been flung, his shadow underwent chilling transformations that sent shivers down Ethan's spine.
The shadow began to twist and contort, as if some malevolent force was manipulating it.
Gradually, its outline blurred, becoming indistinct, then suddenly stretched out, morphing into a monstrous figure.
This creature bore a hideous face, with blood-red eyes gleaming with malicious intent.
Its mouth agape, revealing razor-sharp teeth, it let out a spine-chilling roar.
It even had the audacity to beckon Ethan with a provocative gesture.
"Crack!"
The immense force from Ethan's impact caused a tree trunk, thick enough to be embraced by seven or eight adults, to fracture, emitting a thunderous noise.
This terrifying sound served as a sinister soundtrack to the scene.
Ethan's heart stirred, and he cast his gaze downward to his own shadow.
His shadow was still there, but it was now forming a fist, striking towards Ethan.
Ethan swiftly dodged, but the space was terribly confined.
He found himself being hit by several punches once more.
Ethan, wielding his Dragonblade, slashed frantically at his own shadow.
To any uninformed passerby, he might appear to be a madman.
Meanwhile, the situation for Ethan was still unclear.
Lana and Daphne were faring no better, each engaged in a fierce battle with their own shadows, fighting with all their might.
Ethan felt a surge of fear washing over him, but instead of retreating, the soul of war within him rose vehemently.
A horn's call seemed to emanate from the depths of his soul, and in an instant, Ethan's fighting spirit was fiercely ignited, dispelling the cold, ominous air around him.
With Dragonblade in hand, Ethan struck towards his shadow.
Despite its proximity, the shadow remained elusive, impervious to Ethan's attempts to slay it.
The shadow's fists rained down on Ethan like a tempest, each blow seemingly displacing his internal organs.
Amidst evasive maneuvers, Ethan found a spot where moonlight pierced through the forest canopy.
His shadow, under the moon's glow, stretched grotesquely large, appearing as a tangible enemy.
The shadow gathered its strength, coiling like a drawn bow.
The power surging through its fist sent chills down Ethan's spine.
Why had the shadow's strength intensified?
Ethan's eyes widened in alarm as he dodged, but the punch still landed on him.
"Pff—"
Ethan spat out a mouthful of glittering blood, which seemed starkly out of place on the dim forest floor.
How bizarre...
Ethan's heart pounded in shock; this was the first time he had encountered such a peculiar battle.
Fighting one's own shadow – it was an unbelievable tale to tell.
Yet, the surreal confrontation unfolded right before his eyes.
"How should I respond?"
Ethan pondered, noticing Lana and the others locked in fierce combat, while King had been dragged into the darkness, vanishing without a trace.
"I must devise a strategy."
Ethan's figure swiftly shifted again, moving to an area untouched by moonlight.
The shadow's potency waned, its blows on Ethan becoming insignificant.
Ethan's eyebrows quirked slightly, sensing he was onto something.
He stepped back into the moonlight, and his shadow stretched out once more...
"So, that's it!" A smirk formed on Ethan's lips.
"They're harnessing the power of the moonlight, or rather, the power of light. Attacking the shadow directly is futile... we need to find the person adjacent to the shadow."
Ethan deliberately voiced the shadow's weakness. Then, tilting his Dragonblade slightly, he struck at the empty air beside the shadow.
Instantly, a flash of blood sprang forth, and a painful wail echoed throughout the Shadow Forest.
"Caught you, didn't I?" A ruthless glint shone in Ethan's eyes as he swung his blade again.
A voice emerged from the darkness: "This one's tough, retreat."
As the words were spoken, the shadows near Lana and Daphne ceased their assault.
Even the shadow demon beasts that had crawled up from the ground retreated into their shadowy form, vanishing from Ethan's sight.
Ethan's onslaught didn't cease, though his Dragonblade struck nothing. He was unfazed.
He had identified the instigator.
In Ethan's eyes, shadows undulated in the air, rolling like waves in the sea.
His lips curled into a slight smirk as he fiercely pursued in that direction.
Lana, sensing danger, exclaimed, "Ethan? Don't chase them..."
"Follow me," Ethan's voice came through, "King has been taken by them."
Lana glanced around and, indeed, King's shadow was nowhere to be seen.
With a slight stomp of her foot and a grit of her teeth, she followed Ethan.
It wasn't long before the sounds of Ethan's pursuit gradually faded away.
She watched Ethan's slowly receding figure and sighed with relief, saying:
"You were too reckless. The Shadow Forest is extremely dangerous."
Seeing that Ethan remained silent, she shifted her gaze forward.
She soon realized why Ethan was not speaking.
They were completely surrounded.
A group of figures clad in cloaks slowly encircled them.
The cloaks were embroidered with intricate runes, emanating a powerful dark energy.
Beneath the cloaks, their figures were slender and seemed exceedingly agile.
Their skin was a deep black, almost merging with the darkness.
Their eyes sparkled with a ghostly green glow, exuding a mysterious and eerie aura.
Their faces were pale and fierce, with lips as red as blood, creating a terrifying visage.
Their bodies were covered with a layer of black scales.
These scales, while not appearing hard, seemed to enhance their ability to blend into the darkness.
Their fingers, protruding from their sleeves, were long and sharp, resembling talons – a clear indication of their formidable power.
Lana's throat moved as she asked in a trembling voice, "Who are they?"
"I don't know either," Ethan replied, his expression grave, filled with regret.
These people clearly belonged to the same clan, and they were unreasonably aggressive.
Fighting was one thing, but to swarm out like this was another.
Among this group, a young-looking individual stood out, clutching his shoulder.
The patchy bloodstains on his clothing were proof that he was the one Ethan had injured earlier.
"I mean no harm." Ethan proactively emitted goodwill, facing the group's intimidating, somber gazes.
"You mean no harm?" retorted the young man holding his shoulder, releasing his grip to reveal his wound in a low, stern voice, "Look at the injury on my body."
Ethan's facial muscles twitched slightly as he replied, somewhat speechlessly, "It was you who attacked me first. Would you like to see the sorry state of my friend?"
Lana's clothes were slightly torn, and her normally neat hair was now in disarray.
"Monroe, did you attack this gentleman first?" an elder, leaning on a wooden cane, spoke up.
The young man, identified as Monroe, lips quivering slightly, began, "High Priest, I..."
The elder firmly tapped his cane on the ground, interrupting with a stern command, "I only need you to answer yes or no!"
A cold light flickered and vanished in Monroe's eyes. Just as he was about to utter a response, a deep, authoritative voice intervened, "High Priest, this is a time to unite against external threats. Should we really be putting our own people on trial now?"
Ethan, whose inner flame of anger had just been reignited, felt it extinguish once more.
He had initially thought this so-called High Priest was a figure of high authority and reason, only to realize that internal strife existed within their clan.
The struggle for power, it seemed, was ubiquitous. Wherever there were tribes or races, such battles inevitably arose.
"Dart? What do you mean?" The High Priest turned towards the source of the voice.
Dart slowly emerged, revealing his true appearance.
He was tall and robust, his muscles well-defined and strong.
Typically, such a burly figure would not be associated with agility, but Dart was an exception.
Ethan's instincts told him that underestimating Dart's agility would be a grave mistake, a notion stemming from Dart's skin.
His skin was a deep black, as if dyed by darkness itself. Such a pure hue was something Ethan had only seen in one race - the Elves.
Dart's eyes shimmered with a ghostly green light, conveying a sinister and ferocious aura.
His face was somber and fierce, his forehead etched with complex runes that radiated a powerful dark energy.
His lips were as red as blood, slightly upturned, exuding a cold demeanor.
A long scar adorned his chin, likely a vestige of battle.
Dart let out a soft chuckle, his tone casual as he spoke:
"High Priest, you are too old. The ideas you brought from other worlds no longer suit the development of our Shadow Clan. We possess such a vast territory in the Deityforsaken Land, and our people have grown strong. Their claws, their weapons, they yearn for the taste of blood."
"Today, Monroe's attack on the outsider - don't you understand? Our people crave battle, they yearn to make their mark, to spread the flag of the Shadow Clan across the entire Deityforsaken Land."
Dart paused, took a deep breath, and suddenly pointed at the High Priest, "It's you, all because of you. You've stifled the growth of the Shadow Clan, wanting us to remain isolated just for the sake of the so-called power in your hands."
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