Chapter 216: The Patriarch’s Divine Decree of Annihilation

The Patriarch’s Divine Decree of Annihilation

She had lured little Lucas into a secret chamber.

Then she had carved the bone from his chest.

And transplanted it into her own son.

Jacob’s hands clenched against the ground.

If he had not returned home that d a y...

If he had arrived even a little later...

Lucas would have already been dead.

Victor listened.

He did not interrupt.

His expression gradually became calmer.

Too calm.

But deep within those golden eyes, something was churning.

A tide of blood.

A storm waiting to break.

Jacob continued.

"Just days from now, the Brightwell Family will hold a Prodigy Banquet—inviting all to witness a grand martial display."

His voice shook.

"The real purpose is to show off their ’child of destiny.’"

Victor’s lips curved slightly.

There was no warmth in that smile.

Jacob slammed his fist against the ground.

"What kind of child of destiny?!"

"A thief who stole Lucas’s life!"

The words erupted from his chest.

His knuckles split against the stone.

Blood dripped between his fingers.

Victor looked toward the distant horizon.

For several breaths, he said nothing.

Then a cold, amused smile slowly curled across his lips.

"A prodigy martial display?"

"How interesting. Truly interesting."

Victor spoke softly.

For a moment, his golden eyes remained calm, reflecting the distant sunlight spilling across the Sovereign Blessed Land.

Then his expression changed.

The warmth disappeared from his voice.

His words became stern, carrying the weight of a divine bell as they spread throughout the entire Sovereign Blessed Land.

"Salvatore Family Ranks 11 through 30—listen! Proceed to the Brightwell family in the Everdawn Domain. Go and witness this so-called ’Prodigy Banquet’!"

The instant his words fell, the atmosphere seemed to freeze.

Then Victor’s voice thundered across the heavens.

"All members of the Brightwell family—kill them all!"

There was no hesitation.

No explanation.

No room for negotiation.

It was a decree.

The Patriarch had spoken.

And that was enough.

In the kitchen of the Sovereign Blessed Land, a young man who had been quietly doing odd jobs suddenly stopped.

He slowly stepped outside.

The scent of firewood and roasted meat still clung to his clothes.

He raised his head and looked toward the sun hanging low upon the horizon.

For several breaths, he simply stood there.

Then his hand reached behind him.

He pulled out a black-red fire poker.

The crude weapon looked almost laughable compared to the treasures carried by the great cultivators of the Salvatore Family.

But the young man’s expression was completely serious.

He bowed deeply toward Victor’s direction.

Then he straightened.

His feet left the ground.

His figure shot into the sky.

"HAHAHA!! By the Patriarch’s command!"

His laughter shook the mountain peaks.

"What Brightwell family? They dare to provoke our Patriarch?!"

"Before the Salvatore Family, they are nothing!"

A drunken man rose from another mountain.

His hair was messy.

His robes were loose.

A faint smell of alcohol followed him as he stepped onto the wind with a longsword in his hand.

At the same time, another youth threw aside the enormous beast carcass he had been slaughtering.

Blood covered his hands.

He didn’t bother wiping it away.

Instead, he opened his mouth and swallowed the beast’s essence blood.

A terrifying aura surged through his body.

He looked toward the horizon.

His eyes were filled with absolute reverence.

"Acknowledged!"

SHING—SHING—SHING—!!

One after another.

Figures erupted from within the Sovereign Blessed Land.

Some stepped upon swords.

Some rode upon strange beasts.

Some simply walked through the void.

Others vanished and reappeared hundreds of meters away with every step.

The Rank 11 through Rank 30 members of the Salvatore Family had moved.

Every single one radiated terrifying power.

Yet what was most astonishing was that none of their auras were identical.

Their cultivation methods differed.

Their weapons differed.

Their temperaments differed.

Even the Great Laws of World surrounding their bodies carried completely different characteristics.

One person burned like an endless sun.

Another possessed a cold Sword Intent that seemed capable of freezing the soul.

Another carried a murderous aura so dense that the surrounding space trembled.

Another moved with the quietness of an ancient forest.

It was as though every member of the Salvatore Family had forged a completely different road beneath their feet.

Nobody followed another person’s path.

Nobody copied another person’s way.

They walked their own.

And that alone was terrifying.

These youths were at most thirty years old.

Young.

Almost absurdly young.

Yet the weakest among them had already reached the Heavenly Genesis Third Level.

Any one of them would have been considered a supreme prodigy by the great clans and sacred lands scattered throughout the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths.

Countless ancient powers would fight desperately to recruit even one of them.

Yet here—

They were merely members of a single family.

Jacob stood below, watching them disappear into the distance.

His throat moved slightly.

He had already been stunned by everything he had witnessed since arriving at the Sovereign Blessed Land.

But now, he realized something even more frightening.

Those Rank 11 through Rank 30 prodigies weren’t even the strongest.

Victor’s voice sounded once again.

"Norman!"

"Here!"

A figure appeared before Jacob.

For an instant, Jacob’s breathing stopped.

The young man standing before him looked like a god and demon given human form.

He wore white.

His body was slender, yet the pressure surrounding him was so overwhelming that Jacob instinctively felt as though he were a tiny boat caught in a violent ocean.

One eye was golden.

The other was black.

His black hair fluttered gently in the wind.

There was no arrogance on his face.

No deliberate intimidation.

He simply stood there.

And yet Jacob felt his heart tighten.

Victor looked at Norman.

"Have you found your path?"

Norman nodded slightly.

His eyes remained fixed upon Victor.

"Patriarch, I wish to see how many in this world are worthy of my measure."

He paused.

Then his voice became even quieter.

"Worthy of being called my opponent."