The elder remained standing where he was, his robes fluttering violently in the disturbed air. His aged face twisted into a furious glare as the young warrior hovered above him with calm dominance. A faint tremor in the elder’s stance betrayed the damage he had already taken, yet pride still burned fiercely within his eyes.

  The young warrior looked down at him with a faint, cold smile.

  “Are your old bones still holding together?” he asked casually, his voice carrying a sharp edge of mockery. “Now tell me… who truly overestimated whom?”

  The elder’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly as rage surged through him.

  “You insolent brat,” he spat, his voice trembling with both anger and humiliation. “How dare you speak to me like that…”

  Before he could continue, the young warrior’s expression shifted slightly as his divine domain sense expanded outward. A ripple of awareness spread through the valley, and within seconds, three presences entered his perception.

  “Oh?” he murmured lightly. “Seems like your subordinates have arrived, old man.”

  Inside his mind, he evaluated them instantly. 'Only three… and merely Master Warriors,' he concluded, his confidence remaining unshaken.

  The elder followed his gaze and let out a cold smirk as three disciples from the Falling Leaf Sect rushed toward him, their movements urgent as they landed beside their wounded superior.

  One of them spoke immediately, shock evident in his voice as he saw the elder’s condition. “Elder… you’re injured. What should we do?”

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  The young warrior crossed his arms slightly, his tone dripping with disdain. “What do you think you can accomplish with just three Master Warriors? Even you know that a thousand of them wouldn’t be able to kill a Grandmaster Warrior of your calibre.”

  The elder’s lips curled into a strange, unsettling smile.

  Without replying directly, he slowly raised his hands toward two of the disciples standing closest to him, his fingers beginning to weave complex hand signs. At the same time, his gaze locked onto the young warrior with murderous intent.

  The young warrior’s instincts flared instantly. His body tensed, sensing that something was wrong—not an ordinary attack, but something far more sinister.

  “It isn’t my mistake, my dear inner sect disciples,” the elder said softly while continuing his hand signs, his voice disturbingly calm. “It is that ignorant young man’s fault. If you must blame someone… blame him.”

  He did not even bother to look at the three disciples standing beside him.

  Confusion flickered across their faces. Their brows furrowed as they struggled to understand his words—until suddenly their expressions froze. Their eyes widened in horror, stretching so far that they seemed on the verge of tearing apart.

  A crimson mist erupted from their bodies.

  Thin streams of red energy peeled away from their skin like threads being ripped from flesh, twisting through the air before connecting directly into the elder’s back. The disciples collapsed to their knees as their life force was forcibly extracted, their screams echoing violently across the valley.

  “Elder… you… We… are… of the same sect…” one of them choked out desperately, his voice breaking as his strength drained away.

  The elder’s face remained completely emotionless.

  “You should feel proud,” he said coldly, without a hint of hesitation, “to die for your sect.”

  The crimson threads thickened, pulsing violently as the disciples’ bodies shrivelled. Their screams faded into ragged breaths while the elder’s aura began to swell once more—growing darker, heavier, and far more dangerous than before.

  Above him, the young warrior’s eyes narrowed sharply.

  What stood before him was no longer merely an elder of a righteous sect, but a man willing to sacrifice his own sect’s disciples without a second thought.