Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 118: Who Are You?

Chapter 118: Who Are You?

He remained hidden, his Silent Eclipse Dao cloaking his aura, his breath steady as he observed the disciples. They were young, likely no older than seventeen, their qi refined but untested against the marsh’s true horrors.

Their presence suggested the Skycloud Sect, a regional power beyond the Endless Plains known for its Thunder and Blade Daos, but their pursuit of the wolf this far into the marsh spoke of ambition—or desperation.

The lead disciple froze, his hand raised in a sharp gesture. "Hold."

Kael shifted his stance, his spiritual senses locking onto the same disturbance—a ripple on the water’s surface, subtle but swift, its qi sharp and predatory.

The disciples dropped into guarded postures, their auras flaring in unison, their formation a rudimentary but functional Tri-Spike Array designed to trap agile beasts through pressure fields of linked qi.

The water erupted, a sleek silver blur bursting from the swamp, claws flashing, fangs bared—it was the Silverhorned Wolf, its fur radiant under the faint moonlight, its qi pulsing with a natural agility that defied the marsh’s resistance.

The disciples sprang into action, their movements practiced but strained under the miasma’s weight.

The glaive user met the wolf’s claw with a burst of lightning qi, sparks cascading through the fog, while the dagger girl slashed out, her blades leaving two deep cuts across the beast’s flank, blood steaming as it mingled with the water.

The wolf was no ordinary spirit beast. It twisted mid-air, its silver fur flaring with a surge of Wind Dao, evading the next strike with blinding speed. It blurred past the sword users, a claw slicing one across the shoulder, sending him crashing into a tree with a grunt of pain, his qi disrupted by the blow.

"Scatter!" the glaive user shouted, his voice resonant with authority. "Form the Tri-Spike Array!"

The disciples moved with swift precision, their qi linking in a subtle tapestry, the array’s pressure fields coalescing to restrict the wolf’s movements.

It was a low-tier formation, effective against lesser beasts, but the marsh’s corrupted qi resisted their efforts, the miasma clogging their meridians and destabilizing the array’s rhythm. The formation wobbled, a fatal flaw in this cursed land.

The wolf exploited the opening, its claws slamming into the dagger girl’s shoulder, tossing her back with a pained cry, blood splattering across the vines like crimson ink. The beast’s aura surged, its Wind Dao amplifying its speed, preparing for another lethal strike.

Kael’s hand twitched toward Abyssal Fang, his instincts warring within him. He could leave them to their fate, slip through the fog while the wolf was distracted, his path to the marsh’s heart unimpeded.

Yet the crimson mark pulsed, not with malice but with a quiet resonance, as if urging him to act. The Silver Lotus Flame stirred in his dantian, its silver-violet light flaring with a will of its own, a reflection of the Lotus’s purified essence.

"Damn it," Kael muttered, his voice a low growl, his resolve shifting like a tide. He stepped into the clearing, his aura unfurling, a radiant burst that parted the fog like a celestial blade.

Silver light flared, the Silver Lotus Flame igniting along Abyssal Fang’s edge, its purifying radiance a beacon in the marsh’s gloom. The blade howled through the mist, slicing across the wolf’s trajectory as it leaped toward the fallen girl.

The beast twisted, its Wind Dao flaring to evade, but Kael’s Crescent Requiem Dao anticipated its path, his movements minimal yet precise, each step placing him where the wolf could not react.

One strike carved a shallow gash across its flank, silver fire erupting along its fur, steam rising as the Lotus Flame seared its qi. A second strike followed, deeper, forcing the wolf to roll away, its yelp echoing through the fog, its speed faltering under the flame’s weight.

The disciples gaped, their auras wavering, their spiritual senses reeling from Kael’s presence. "Who—?" the glaive user began, his voice cut short by the wolf’s renewed assault.

The beast lunged, its claws aimed for Kael’s spirit core, its Wind Dao surging with desperate ferocity. Kael met it mid-air, his Silent Eclipse cloaking his form in shadow as he slammed Abyssal Fang downward, the blade striking the wolf’s skull with a burst of Silver Lotus Flame that ignited like a starburst.

The beast convulsed, its qi collapsing under the flame’s purifying force, its body twitching once before falling still, steam rising from its charred fur.

Kael exhaled, stepping back, Abyssal Fang still at the ready, its edge humming with residual qi. The fog settled around the slain wolf, the marsh’s silence heavier now as if acknowledging the battle’s end.

"Who are you?" the glaive user demanded, stepping forward, his lightning qi crackling warily, his spiritual senses probing Kael’s aura. "You’re not from the midlands."

Kael’s silver eyes flicked to him, their gaze cold but unthreatening. "I’m no threat to you," he said, his voice steady, his Silent Eclipse Dao cloaking his true power.

"Doesn’t mean we’ll trust you," the dagger girl snapped, clutching her bleeding shoulder, her Blade Intent flaring despite her pain, her qi sharp with defiance.

Kael shrugged, his aura retracting, the Silver Lotus Flame dimming to a faint flicker. "That’s your choice."

He turned to leave, his boots splashing softly in the water, his focus already shifting to the vision that called him eastward.

"Wait!" the glaive user called, his voice tinged with urgency. "You saved us—risked your life for strangers."

Kael didn’t stop, his steps deliberate, his Crescent Requiem Dao guiding him through the fog. "I didn’t do it for you," he said, his tone flat, a truth that needed no embellishment.

"But—at least let us repay you!" the glaive user insisted, his qi fluctuating with a mix of gratitude and caution. "The Silverhorned Wolf’s core—it’s yours by right."

Kael halted, his back to them, the crimson mark pulsing faintly, its rhythm quickening. "I don’t need coin or cores," he said, his voice low, carrying the weight of a cultivator who walked a solitary path. "Just don’t follow me."

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