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 toward

Chance!” In response, Dillon surged forward, his determination fueled by

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

figure after another materialized until there were seven identical versions of himself, each adorned in gleaming golden armor and brandishing

multiple identical Jareds left the dozen or so Demonic

shock was mirrored by the disciples of Pathfinder Sect and the other cultivators

of technique was Jared employing, how had he multiplied

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

used some sort of illusion to confuse

their mystical weapons slicing through the air in a synchronized

the air, Dragonslayer Sword gleaming in

the attention of the Demonic Cultivators converged on him. They recognized him as the genuine