A Man Like None Other

Before anyone could even comprehend what had transpired, Jared stood among the chaos, Dragonslayer Sword in hand, its blade still dripping with fresh blood.

Gasp!

Every disciple of Pathfinder Sect drew in a sharp breath, their initial frustration now replaced by utter astonishment.

Just moments ago, they were irate because Jared looked down on them, but now, they stood in awe. Witnessing a Third Level Tribulator dispatch a Fourth Level Tribulator with such precision and speed left them speechless.

Even for a Fifth Level Tribulator, such a feat would be impressive, but Jared had accomplished it effortlessly.

Dillon, too, was profoundly astonished. He had underestimated Jared’s strength; he couldn’t fathom achieving such a feat himself.

One-Eyed stared at his fallen comrade, flabbergasted.

fury as he lunged

let you harm Mr. Chance!” In response, Dillon surged forward, his

clashed with One-Eyed in a fierce struggle, the remaining dozen

Dragonslayer Sword. With each stroke, one figure after another materialized until there were seven identical versions of himself, each adorned in gleaming golden armor and brandishing a Dragonslayer Sword. Their eyes blazed

of multiple identical Jareds left the dozen or

and the other cultivators aboard the

wondering what manner of technique was Jared employing, how had he multiplied himself so suddenly, and which

an illusion spell! It’s all fake! Just continue your attacks!” One-Eyed roared, rallying

some sort of illusion to confuse

Cultivators launched their assault once more, their mystical weapons slicing through the

soared into the air, Dragonslayer

of the Demonic Cultivators converged on him. They recognized him as the genuine threat amidst the illusions, focusing