“Why?” Cheyenne stared blankly at the familiar face right in front of her. Her pale complexion resembled a sheet of paper, still recovering from old wounds.
Her eyes were already moist, with her pupils constricting involuntarily. She felt a sourness in her nose and a tightness in her throat.
Ignoring the wound on his head, Benson moved gently to disarm the dagger in her hand and chuckled softly, “Only my blood can kill her.”
“No… You’re in no condition to do it now. Isn’t there any other way?” Cheyenne pleaded. Perhaps blowing this place up and turning it into ruins would work?
Seemingly understanding her thoughts, Benson tenderly and resolutely dissuaded her, “Cheyenne, there are still many innocent people here.”
If an explosion were to occur, so many people would be trapped in this nightmare and there wouldn’t be enough time to escape.
Hearing his words, Cheyenne swiftly scanned their surroundings. Many were already foaming at the mouth, and those with wavering wills were even starting to bash their heads against the walls in an attempt to end their lives.
Forget it.
If she were to throw the grenade down, she would likely instantly become a criminal.
But if she didn’t kill Charlotte, who already had an evil heart and possessed such immense power, the consequences could be dire.
While Cheyenne was trying to come up with the best solution, Benson had without hesitation cut his own palm with the knife. Fresh blood flowed continuously from his hand, staining the silver blade crimson.
The next moment, he firmly gripped the knife and took steps towards Charlotte. His tall and slender figure, like a solitary silhouette under the evening sun, evoked a pang of sympathy from those watching.
Cheyenne snapped back to reality and hurriedly ran towards him, shouting desperately, “Benson, don’t!”
He wouldn’t stand a chance against Charlotte in his current state. Going there would only mean walking into death.
Benson didn’t stop his stride. He faced away from Cheyenne, revealing a faint smile on his handsome face.
The crimson lips formed an elegant curve, lightly parting as he silently muttered, “Finally… To hear you call me Benson one more time.”
He felt so much pain when she called him “Master Darren” instead.
With this thought, Benson became even more determined to kill Charlotte.
It was not only for Cheyenne’s sake but also for the Miller family. His father and Charlotte had caused a grave mistake today, and it was possible that the Emperor and the President would hold them accountable.
If the Miller family didn’t set an example, they would likely be expelled from the Eight Great Families in Jostrana.
This was his final act for the sake of the family and the last time he would show his love for Cheyenne through his actions.
Charlotte didn’t regard him as a threat. She saw him as nothing more than a stray dog. How could he compare to her in her current state?
“My dear brother, are you really going to kill me? I remember when we were young, you taught me Praying Magic…”
“If you surrender to me now, and kill that woman, I can promise you even greater power in the future.”
She wasn’t stupid; she even resorted to threatening and tempting him.
Unfortunately, Benson was as resolute and completely unaffected. He tightened his grip on the knife and approached.
His gaze was icy, with an unprecedented determination. “My only regret is that I didn’t kill you when you caused Cheyenne to fall into the water!”
“Charlotte is already dead. What’s left is just a monster, neither alive nor dead.”
Upon hearing this, anger flickered in Charlotte’s heterochromatic eyes. She furrowed her brow, her thick bangs masking those piercing eyes.
“Then I’ll just have to kill you!” she snarled.
With those words, Charlotte summoned a large, black shark.
As it lunged towards Benson, he gracefully leaped into the air, evading the shark’s attack with a swift somersault. In that split second, a golden radiance emanated from his palm.
His palm struck the shark, and the golden light rapidly permeated, causing the black shark to shatter.
Charlotte gasped in disbelief. She had thought him to be nothing but a waste, so she only used intermediate Praying Magic.
But to her surprise, despite his sickly appearance and frail demeanor, he possessed such formidable power.
All of this power stemmed from the purity of his bloodline within.
Greed swirled in Charlotte’s eyes. If she could just capture Benson and drain his blood, she would gain even greater power.
Then, her body would be rejuvenated, returning to its former state.
This temptation was deadly to her, and Charlotte grew increasingly impatient. This time, she employed the most advanced Praying Magic.
Threads of black smoke emerged from the ground’s crevices, swiftly converging into a towering tree, its numerous branches entangling the people on the ground like serpents in mid-air.
These branches incessantly siphoned their lifeblood, converting it into powerful energy that flowed back to her.
The scene was filled with cries of agony and screams; some were already fainting from sheer terror.
Cheyenne, too, was inadvertently ensnared by the branches, hanging upside down from the tree. This head-down sensation was far from friendly.
The branches continued to constrict, their tiny thorns piercing her skin and siphoning her blood.
It was unsustainable; she would eventually become a dried-up corpse like the others.
About two meters above ground, she struggled to save herself, frantically fumbling around her waist.
When she arrived, she had concealed a set of silver needles on herself, just in case.
To her surprise, they were now proving useful. Cheyenne swiftly grabbed the silver needles and unleashed them all at once.
…
Perhaps because her hand had been stained with Benson’s blood, the silver needles took effect when they struck the black tree vines.
The vines loosened, and her body lost its gravity, plummeting to the ground. Cheyenne landed in a nearby flowerbed, cushioned by the shrubs, preventing a harsh fall.
Unfortunately, her head struck a sturdy tree trunk before she lost consciousness and fainted.
Before blacking out, Cheyenne faintly glimpsed a swirling mass of black and golden light, locked in a fierce clash.
Benson…
On that day, the clear sky suddenly began to snow heavily, silently burying the bloodshed within the Miller Residence.
After returning from the Miller family, the Emperor did not step out of the palace for over half a month. The President also took a sick leave for a week.