God-Tier Villain

Chapter 78: Chapter 78

Space warped and buckled within a thousand meters of him, arms crossed, he stared ahead with a cold, ruthless gaze.

Every breath seemed to tug at the elements of heaven and earth.

Dark clouds screamed across the sky, rolling in like a storm, low thunder groaned somewhere in the gloom.

His presence looked ready to bend wind, rain, thunder and lightning to his will.

When that ruthless expression surfaced and his eyes went violent, there would never be a soul left able to lift their head near him.

Lysara felt the pressure bearing down on her, she’d backed off from his immediate vicinity to ready herself for battle.

The sensation was like a sharpened sword laid flat against her spine, bone-chilling.

Rushing wind swept the sky, riding the gale into view came a dense black mass of human cultivators.

The closer they drew, the more they realized something was badly wrong.

The demonic might came down on their heads like a mountain, trapping them between advance and retreat, every one of them stopped.

They peered timidly toward the void ahead.

Soren’s demonic might had swallowed sky and earth.

Inside the ink-black clouds his aura took shape as a massive snarling demon, fangs bared, claws out, its features were sharp and clear, glaring down with a hideous grin and murderous eyes.

One more step forward and they’d be prey in that thing’s jaws.

"Hea... Heavens."

"What is that?"

"That’s demonic might!"

"Could the commotion just now have been one of our Moonveil Great Emperors fighting a Demon Emperor?"

"This is bad, the demons have invaded."

"But it’s gone dead quiet now."

"Did our domain’s Great Emperor lose?"

"Stop talking nonsense."

"That imperial might’s clearly still here."

"Right, how could a proud Great Emperor of our human race, a favored child of destiny, lose to some Demon Emperor?"

"Spread any more panic and we’ll cut your tongue out."

"Then... why isn’t anyone walking forward anymore?"

The air went dead silent.

Mouths twitched, throats closed around the one sentence that had slipped out, they talked tough, but none of them were fools.

Even with his aura suppressed in, Soren was far more terrifying than Lysara’s imperial might, charging over there meant instant death.

While the crowd paced back and forth, unable to decide, several surges of Great Emperor-level pressure erupted.

Someone had torn through the void onto the field.

"It’s our human Great Emperors, all of them!"

"Hahaha!"

"That Demon Emperor’s finished for sure!"

The cultivators glanced at each other and scrambled forward, terrified of missing a scene they could brag about for the rest of their lives.

A spatial rift several hundred meters long ripped open across the horizon, it caught the attention of both Soren and Lysara, together they looked deep into it.

Several human Great Emperors emerged, swarms of cultivators at their backs, fewer than the force Lysara had once led against him, but every one an elite.

The weakest was Middle-Tier Human Venerable.

A few thousand in total.

To Soren they were a disorganized mob, no threat at all, he did take a small interest in the three figures at the very front, and looked them over with a half-smile.

The man in white in the center had a well-proportioned build, long narrow eyes like willow leaves, a face pale as frost that lent him a faintly sickly air, around Soren’s own age and build.

Gray pallor aside, the charm in his brow bore a seventy, eighty percent resemblance to Grant.

Grant’s son, Neal.

Lysara had said he was a Middle-Tier Human Emperor, from what Soren could see, his strength ran past that, he was suppressing it.

He’d already broken into Upper-Tier Human Emperor, Soren gave a contemptuous snort, didn’t take him seriously in the slightest.

His attention moved to the old man on Neal’s left, a Demon-Subduing Pestle in hand, a broad bamboo hat pulled low over his eyes and face.

One look told Soren the man wasn’t simple.

To Neal’s right stood a figure wrapped in a long black robe, even more enigmatic than the old man with the hat.

Lysara’s voice, wrapped in spiritual energy, went straight into his ear.

"Master, the one in the middle is Neal."

"But those two beside him, I’ve never seen either of them."

"The domain’s other Middle-Tier Human Emperor, and the four other Lower-Tier Human Emperors, are all standing behind Neal."

Soren stood with arms crossed, fingers tapping lightly on his forearm, not a trace of panic.

Lysara went quiet too, waiting on his command, in the end her gaze drifted, against her will, to the Middle-Tier Human Emperor behind Neal.

An old man, white hair, snowy beard, his face was gaunt and lined, his eyes full of deep disappointment, he shook his head and let out a long sigh, no intention of speaking to her at all.

Her crimson lips trembled, her voice came out barely there. "Master..."

That white-haired old man, one of only two public Middle-Tier Human Emperors in the domain, was Lysara’s teacher, the former Palace Master of the Cold Moon Palace, her catastrophic defeat besieging Soren had forced him out of retirement to retake the Palace.

His arrival at Neal’s side to intercept Soren was entirely expected.

Neal stared at Soren a moment, then his flat gaze slid to Lysara.

"To think you’d actually surrender and throw in with that fiend Soren."

"Palace Master... you’ve disappointed me deeply."

Arnold and Bruce had leaked it to the public on purpose, that Lysara had defected to Soren, that she’d personally slaughtered the hundreds of thousands she once led against him, to prove her loyalty.

A small scheme of Arnold’s, meant to strip her of the human race’s trust, some among the humans still doubted it.

The group led by the former Cold Moon Palace Master knew Lysara’s character too well, they couldn’t imagine any reason she’d defect, so they’d decided the rumors were a trap.

Seeing it with their own eyes today, they had no choice but to believe.

The old Lysara would have done everything to explain, and if she couldn’t, she’d have proven her innocence with her death.

Now, her tier with Soren had lit Deep Affection and Righteousness, barring some catastrophe, Soren dying or being sealed forever, she’d never betray him, she felt no need to explain a thing.

She drew her sword and leveled it at Neal and the crowd behind him, her gaze hardened.