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.

your life!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating with fury as he lunged toward Jared with

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

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

voice thundered as he wielded the 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 with an

identical Jareds left

by the disciples of Pathfinder Sect and the other cultivators aboard the

had he multiplied himself so suddenly, and which figure

all fake! Just continue your

some sort of illusion

weapons slicing through the air in a synchronized barrage

the air, Dragonslayer Sword gleaming in

the Demonic Cultivators converged on him. They recognized him as the genuine threat amidst the illusions, focusing their assault on the real Jared with a determined