Jett Thorne’s rage burned like an unquenchable fire whenever he thought of the Rocco family’s murder of his eldest son.
This Jaxon Rocco was a reckless madman, daring to kill the son Jett valued most. If his eldest son were still alive, he would have likely reached the Grand level by now. Unlike his youngest, Soren Thorne, who excelled only at boasting and was otherwise useless.
The thought of his eldest son’s death was like a dagger twisting in Jett’s heart, filling him with unbearable anguish.
What pained him even more was that the curse he had placed on the Rocco family had been broken-someone had seen through it and dismantled it.
He didn’t know who that meddler was, but it no longer mattered. The nine hundred and ninety-nine pure maidens required for his ultimate ritual had all been gathered. Soon, their blood would soak his body, bathing him in power.
As he envisioned the completion of his grand ambition, his heart ached anew for his fallen son.
“Son, your father will avenge you soon. Rest easy. The Rocco family will perish. Even if I must stand against Seclela, against the entire world, the Rocco family will fall. They will fall.”
Hatred consumed him, making his breaths sharp and heavy.
Beyond the doors, a crowd of innocent young girls awaited their grim fate. Soon, their blood would be drained, and they would die.
But to Jett Thorne, their deaths were a privilege. To become the sacrifice that would fuel his divine power-what greater honor could they ask for? In death, they would merge with him, their souls intertwining with his own.
This technique demanded not only their blood but also their very souls-their three spirits and seven essences. When these girls died, their souls would flow out alongside their blood, spilling into the ritual bath.
As he sat with his eyes closed, feigning meditation, a faint smile crept across Jett Thorne’s lips at the thought.
“Hall Master,” Finnian began, seizing the moment, “once you’ve mastered this divine power, I hope you will do me a favor and eliminate someone for me. That man forced me to kneel! Were it not for the bigger picture, I would have killed him on the spot!”
Soren Thorne shot him a glare and growled, “What nonsense! For the Hall Master to achieve greatness, enduring some humiliation is nothing. Or do you not wish to serve him?”
Finnian quickly backtracked, “No, no! Serving the Hall Master is my greatest honor.”
“Then shut up!”
Suddenly, a voice called from outside the hall. “Report! Hall Master, Young Master… one is missing!”
“What?” Soren Thorne’s face darkened. “Are you sure one is missing?”
The subordinate nodded solemnly. “Yes, I’ve counted ten times. One is definitely missing.”
Hearing this, Jett Thorne slowly opened his eyes, his piercing gaze sweeping over the so-called Grand Lords gathered below. Though they bore the title of “Grand Lord,” they were nothing more than pawns, given the title merely to ensure their loyalty.
“Whose maiden is missing?” Soren Thorne asked eagerly.
The subordinate hesitated before replying, “The missing girl was brought by Grand Lord Baker.”
Boom!
The words struck Finnian like a thunderbolt. He froze in place, his face pale as a sheet.
He stammered, pointing to himself. “What? Me? But I-”
“What’s going on, Finnian?” Jett Thorne’s voice rumbled from the throne, carrying a pressure so immense it felt like a tidal wave crashing down.
Sweat dripped from Finnian’s face like summer rain. Large beads rolled down, splattering on the floor.
“Hall Master, I swear! I confirmed everything last night. The final girl was delivered here. She was even an outsider!” Finnian’s voice trembled as he recounted his actions.
“Spare me your excuses,” Jett Thorne interrupted, his face cold and commanding. “I want to see the girl. Where is she?”
Finnian’s tongue twisted as he stammered, “I-I-I’ll find her! I’ll find her right away!”
He turned to leave, but before he could take a single step, a chilling voice echoed from outside the hall.
“No need to search. She’s not coming. And you… won’t continue this ritual.”
The voice was cold and mocking, yet its source remained unseen.
Everyone turned toward the entrance, puzzled. Five seconds later, a slender young man appeared in the doorway. He seemed to descend from the heavens, bypassing the Venom Sect’s main gate entirely.
Had he entered through the gate, there would have been a commotion. But no sounds of battle had been heard. The only explanation was that he had flown in.
Kayden had, indeed, flown-or more accurately, scaled the walls with inhuman speed, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.
As he arrived, he overheard mention of some so-called divine power. He also saw the young girls standing in the square. Whatever this ritual was, it reeked of evil.
Such depravity was unforgivable.
“Who are you?” Soren Thorne bellowed at the figure in the doorway. Then, realizing the gravity of the situation, he shouted, “Guards! Guards! Seize him!”
A swarm of armed men surrounded Kayden, their weapons glinting under the dim light.
Kayden didn’t so much as glance at them. They were beneath his notice.
“It’s him!” Finnian cried, pointing at Kayden in both fear and fury. “Young Master, that’s the man who forced me to kneel! He must’ve taken the girl too. He’s been targeting me ever since that day!”
“Shut up,” Kayden growled.
Before Finnian could say another word, a flash of white light streaked from Kayden’s hand. The next moment, Finnian’s chest was pierced by a blade.
Nobody saw how the weapon moved; they only saw the hilt protruding from Finnian’s chest. It was a broken, rusted blade, jagged and deadly.
The sheer force required to drive such a weapon into the heart was terrifying.
Finnian’s eyes widened as he struggled to speak, but no words came. Slowly, he dropped to his knees before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
With a flick of Kayden’s wrist, the blade ripped itself free and flew back to his hand as though guided by an unseen force.
Finnian spat a mouthful of blood as his body hit the floor. He was dead.
The hall fell silent, the air thick with tension.
An elderly man at the front, his beard quivering with rage, pointed a trembling finger at Kayden. “You insolent fool! How dare you kill my man here? Do you even know where you are? This is the Venom Sect’s grand hall! Blood spilled here is an insult to our sacred ground. Finnian wasn’t even worthy of dying here!”
Another flash of white light cut through the air.
This time, the old man didn’t even have time to react. The blade spiraled toward him, slicing clean through his neck.
His head hit the ground with a heavy thud.