Chapter 179: The Completely Mad Demon Cultist

Rain of Ice Arrows! Under the effects of magic, water vapor rapidly condensed into ice, transforming into a spectacular shower of projectiles. The vast majority shot toward the Altar, while a smaller portion hailed down on the Benthic Demon Fish.

The red-robed cultist coiled his tentacles into a swirling shield, guarding the Altar and blocking the downpour of arrows.

The densely packed Ice Arrows pierced his tentacles. Icy magic seeped through the wounds, invading the appendages.

The red-robed cultist was forced to channel his internal qi to resist the freezing magic, ensuring his tentacles did not lose their mobility.

Although a single Ice Arrow carried little magical power, the sheer volume made up for that weakness.

The red-robed cultist roared at the Benthic Demon Fish, who were merely treading water.

"Hurry! Stop him! If the Altar is destroyed, no one gets anything!"

"Gahahaha! Birrell! I want that Soul Crystallization you've been hoarding."

"You!"

The red-robed cultist—Birrell—was infuriated by the Benthic Demon Fish hiking prices opportunistically, but he swallowed his rage.

"Fine!"

"Gahahaha! It's a deal!"

At a signal from their most powerful leader, the four Benthic Demon Fish finally got serious!

The signature abilities of the Benthic Demon Fish race were their psychic power and water manipulation.

A surging psychic wave rippled outward. The seawater beneath the ice began to tremble—a faint vibration at first, but the turbulence rapidly intensified.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The ten-meter-thick sheet of ice shattered.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Finally, the ice completely crumbled, turning into floating chunks on the water's surface.

The Benthic Demon Fish commanded soaring pillars of water to strike the White Dragon in the sky.

The White Dragon Lord dodged the erupting geysers. He beat his wings and swooped toward their position, took a deep breath, and unleashed a blast of ice-blue Dragon Breath at the four Benthic Demon Fish.

Sensing the terrifying surge of energy within the Dragon Breath, the Benthic Demon Fish didn't dare take the attack head-on.

"Retreat!"

The four Benthic Demon Fish dove deep underwater. The Dragon Breath struck the surface, instantly freezing a massive chunk of the sea.

Sustaining his breath attack, the White Dragon Lord swept toward the red-robed cultist on the island.

A chill ran down Birrell's spine as he watched the White Dragon approaching. He knew that even with the four Benthic Demon Fish, they couldn't guarantee the Altar's safety.

After all, destroying was always easier than defending.

After a fierce mental struggle, Birrell gritted his teeth and tore off his red robes, revealing his brawny chest.

Only then did the White Dragon Lord see that Birrell's left arm had been completely replaced by dark red tentacles. At his shoulder, where the foul appendage fused with normal muscle, dark red veins writhed like living earthworms.

Birrell muttered a low prayer in Abyssal, invoking a certain entity.

"Ramsdenvalen, great Thousand-Handed Demon, I offer my right arm in sacrifice for your blessing!" he chanted in Abyssal.

Had the White Dragon Lord heard the name Ramsdenvalen, he would have recognized it instantly. It was the top warlord under Brash, the Howling Lord—a massive, writhing mass of appendages that called itself the Thousand-Handed Demon.

The moment he spoke, blood-red bubbles erupted across Birrell's muscular right arm, quickly swallowing the limb entirely.

"Ah!!!"

Birrell threw his head back and roared in agony. In an instant, his right arm completed its transformation, becoming a ceaselessly writhing red tentacle.

Birrell's aura—already that of a Peak Legendary Rank Warrior—surged violently, breaking through to the High-Tier Legendary Level.

The White Dragon Lord's pupils shrank as he watched Birrell's right arm mutate. He recalled an evil ritual.

This wasn't physical modification!

It was a sacrifice!

Within the ranks of the Demon Cultists, there was a secret technique. It allowed followers who were already powerful enough to sacrifice a part of their own body to a Demon. The offered flesh would transform into demonic tissue, granting the cultist the entity's unique abilities.

But the Demons of the Abyss were no philanthropists. Whenever they bestowed power, they demanded far more in return.

Once a Demon Cultist who had sacrificed their body died, their soul lost even the chance to be reborn as a new Demon. Instead, they would be devoured outright as nourishment by the entity they worshipped.

Furthermore, the more body parts a cultist sacrificed, the closer their mind drifted toward that of a true Demon.

If someone offered up their entire body to a Demon while still alive, they would lose their sense of self entirely, becoming nothing more than an avatar of that Abyssal master.

Even among the Demon Cultists—a group already overflowing with madmen—such absolute lunatics were incredibly rare.

Birrell's eyes glowed blood-red. Screaming, he swung his two tentacle arms. The appendages snapped forward with incredible reach, bypassing the Dragon Breath to strike at the White Dragon Lord from both sides.

The White Dragon Lord beat his wings furiously, soaring higher into the sky. In doing so, he evaded both the whipping tentacles and a sudden psychic shockwave from the Benthic Demon Fish breaching the surface.

"We can't fight near the Altar!" Birrell shouted. "Drive him away!"

"Understood!" the Benthic Demon Fish leader replied.

Birrell leaped into the air, his twin tentacles dancing into a blur of whipping shadows as he chased after the White Dragon Lord.

With the Benthic Demon Fish coordinating the assault, the White Dragon Lord was "forced" to retreat again and again.

Far behind the battlefield, in a grotto carved into the cliff face, the prowling Nether Panther watched the White Dragon Lord finally draw the enemies away. Yuir knew his chance had come.

Yuir leaped from the cliff, landing soundlessly on the chunks of floating ice. Bounding from one floe to another, he sneaked onto the small island.

Choosing to ignore the handful of half-dead Demon Cultists, the prowling Yuir approached the Altar. After a careful inspection, he realized they hadn't set any traps around the structure.

It seemed they had been utterly confident in their blood-red Magic Barrier.

Unfortunately for them, it had already been shattered by legendary magic.

Spotting a hidden door by the Altar that the red-robed cultist had left open, Yuir slipped inside undetected.

The secret chamber was small. Right in its center sat a blood-red disc engraved with a complex Array.

This had to be the barrier's Control Core.

Without a second thought, Yuir lunged forward and ruthlessly swiped his claws across the disc.

Beneath the Nether Panther's razor-sharp claws, the disc shattered into pieces.

Hm?!

What was this transparent bead?

Yuir noticed a clear pearl resting beside the shattered disc. He had no idea what it was.

But his animal instincts screamed that it was something incredibly valuable.

Without hesitating, Yuir swallowed it in one gulp and bolted for the door.

The moment the disc shattered, an invisible wave of energy swept out in all directions.

The barrier was gone!

Birrell, the barrier's controller, sensed the collapsed array and let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

"No!"

Birrell had realized something was wrong the moment the Nether Panther slipped into the secret chamber. Unfortunately, the distance was too great, and with the White Dragon Lord actively obstructing him, it was too late to turn back.

His lifelong pillar of faith—the sacred task bestowed upon him by his great master—had failed!

At that thought, Birrell's eyes instantly flooded with blood. Pure madness hijacked every nerve in his body.

"You! You!"

Birrell roared madly at the White Dragon Lord and the Benthic Demon Fish.

"You're all going to die!!!"