Reaper of the Martial World

Book 8: Chapter 117: Sacrifice (1)

~Hours earlier

Little Yin’s body shivered. The distance from her to Dyon was too far, making it impossible for her to rely on him to sustain her strength.

The guild guards seemed to have some sort of death wish. It had already been several days since Little Yin had sent out her first warning, yet they kept coming.

At first, there was great hesitation. Five guild guard, 20 battle suits and 20 operators dead and gone in just a few moments, how could they not hesitate?

However, after more than a day of no movement, they began to question a few things. If there was such a powerful expert protecting Clara, why did he or she just leave her lying there unconscious? Why hadn’t this person swept forward and taken Clara away yet? Didn’t that mean there were obviously some limitations to this person’s abilities?

This made sense, of course. They couldn’t think of any other reasons why Little Yin hadn’t taken Clara away yet. They concluded that it must be some sort of treasure, and if this was true, then it had its limits for sure.

Little Yin had never even felt anger before these events, but watching how these people began to use Clara’s life as some sort of experiment pissed her off.

Little by little, they began to realize that whatever it was protecting Clara only took action when there was something directly trying to interfere with Clara herself. It ignored things they threw over, but if what was thrown over would hit Clara, its existence would be wiped from reality.

Then they noticed a range limitation. No one ever died from greater than ten meters away, so the guild guards began to use that range as a reference for the distance they should maintain.

After this was found out, they began to pepper Little Yin and Clara with ranged attacks. Little Yin could feel her ancient aura being whittled away with every passing moment. She was beginning to think that she truly had no choice but to risk Clara’s life by entering the void.

**

“Do you really want to keep doing this? Do you think you’ll have a place here when all of this is over?” The Poison Guild Head sneered toward the Weapon’s Guild Head, his snide comments just as sharp as usual.

“You don’t feel embarrassed?” A silver robed middle aged man rebutted, clear disgust on his aged features. “Isn’t it obvious to you that the Sapientia haven’t kept their word? And now you want me to take action against one of my own disciples for their pleasure? If you want to leave this room, you’ll have to step over my dead body.”

The Poison Guild Head erupted into laughter. “Were you really so naïve to believe that the Sapientia ever had a shred of good in them? The inferior swine of the martial world might fall for their tricks, but how can you call yourself a dao expert if you’re so naïve?

“This was never about who was right and who was wrong. It’s about who has the most power. The Sapientia you’ve seen is just the tip of the iceberg, but you really want to go against that? You’re a fool. They don’t care about your feelings, they wouldn’t even blink an eye if the whole of the tower quadrants went up in smoke. Don’t you get it? Even as a Moon Lord, you are useless to them. I am useless to them. They are useless to them.” The Poison Guild Head pointed toward the rest of the guild heads.

The weapon’s guild head sneered. “You say that so proudly, speaking of the pride and knowledge of a dao expert, yet you lower your head so easily. I wonder what you’d do if you found out that the Clan you were offending for the so-called Sapientia was a Clan you couldn’t afford to offend all the more so? How would you feel about who was naïve and who wasn’t then?”

The guild heads froze at these words. No one knew where Clara came from, nor had they ever heard of a Gallagher Clan. But, could it really be that Clara came up with the Network alone?

“That’s enough. It’s best you move, Metheus.” The magic guild head, and the woman rumored to have a relationship with her student Diasho Ken, stepped forward.

“You all disgust me. You pretend to stand at the top of the world and flaunt your strength when it suits you, but whenever you receive even the slightest bit of pushback, you fold like cheap metal.”

Metheus watched as six of his colleagues turned on him. Did they really think that they were at the top of the world? Did they not understand what level of innovation went into the Mortal Network? Did they really think that Clara could come from a simple Clan? Fools. All of them.

“This is your last chance. Move!”

It didn’t matter who spoke. Six Guild Heads, all of whom decided to put down their pride as Moon Lords to wag their tail for a master who cared nothing for them. All Metheus felt was endless disgust as six attacks charged toward him. There was no point in defending. Aside from the runic, magic and poison guild heads, they all had poor battle prowess. How would he as a mere blacksmith withstand six attacks?

Metheus lightly touched the workbench strapped to his back in his final moments. ‘Seems this is the end of our road, friend.’