Tall, Dark, and Deadly

Twenty Wolf Riders streamed forward like black rivers, smoothly entering the hall with the scarlet moonlight spilling on their backs.

These savages appeared as calm as the surface of a lake. But when you look closely at them, you will see how deep the danger you are in.

In front of the Wolf Riders, a pale-skinned youth walked forward, dwarfing almost everyone in the hall with his 7 feet height. Although he looked slender as a stick, his eyes contained thick bloodlust that can suffocate ordinary men.

When all of his subordinates entered the room, the pale-skinned youth stood straight like a spear.

"Good evening prison miners," the pale-skinned youth said, his voice sounded in the same way a healer announces the death of his patient. "Kindly call Sorg to meet me here."

A wave of response flew out from the prison miners. Beside Byzum, the green-eyed youth became a cornered beast, his breaths turned deep, but he stood straight as an arrow, always ready to pierce its way out.

But most of the prison miners stumbled to each other like sticks blown by merciless winds. The others just stood frozen.

Byzum recognized the pale-skinned youth — he was Zalik Maik. The infamous young lord of the Woric Tribe, renowned for his polite savageness that put some satanic priests into shame.

Despite the sharp stare of Zalik, Byzum scrutinized him with an equal amount of sharpness.

Zalik was a killer of panties, blue-eyed, and sharp-featured. His smooth skin could make women bleed with bloody infatuation. On his neck, a set of werewolf tattoos glowed golden, symbolizing his crowning pride as the young lord of the Woric Tribe.

The Woric Warlord wore black armor, black woolen pants, and a white fur coat that ran from his well-molded jaw all the way to his black boots. You wouldn't say he was a monster unless you learn his dark reputation.

Just like Zalik, the other Worics favored dark armors and matching white fur coats. Despite sitting on their wolves, Byzum estimated that almost all of them were 7 feet in height.

Adding some spiciness to Byzum's envy, the other Worics also owned bright blue eyes that complimented their smooth snowy skins as well as their well-shaped faces.

Their good looks should be the reason why the low-land nobles hated them, Byzum thought.

It would have been fine if they were just bandits or some random cultivators who got the cultivation power of Spirit Condensation Rank. But no. They're not common. These savages forged their physiques through fires of pain. Their combat skills were terrifying enough to put the conventional knights into coffins of shame.

In Byzum's mind, rumors roared with the terrifying possibility that the Worics were the lost descendants of Khan the Conquer who conquered the continents of Eunium and Ishar.

Back to reality, and with his eyes looking forward, Byzum noticed that other Worics still sat upon their War Wolves that were larger than full-grown men.

The War Wolves got the height that was as tall as the prison miners who stood from 5-6 feet high. Their wolven eyes gleamed black like the night sky of Drowning Days. And their fur seemed smoothly sharp as the surging waters of a predatorial river.

The limbs of these 10 War Wolves were as thick and hard as the trunk of an Iron tree. Their teeth and claws were deadlier than the combined battle prowess of the 22 prison miners.

Zalik Maik got the War Wolf that was large as his ego. Byzum wondered if the Worics measured the size of their War Wolves the way teenage boys measured the length of their cocks.

On the platform, Byzum seemed stoic as a stone. But his mind had already traveled on the road of restlessness.

Based on Zalik's tone of voice, he knew that they were here for the Cloud Lotus.

Byzum was no coward. He can fight to the death. Well, he was a Dragon Demon who can kill most of the human cultivators. But not now.

Not now that his abilities were restricted for his anger management. Not now that he faced the Worics. Byzum believed that he can escape, but he didn't want to leave his soon-to-be soldiers.

Staring at Zalik had never done anything good, so Byzum gritted his teeth and moved to execute the plan that sprouted inside his head.

Byzum lifted the sausage-faced man from the table. With a swing of his arm, he threw the corpse towards Zalik.

The sausage-faced man crashed like a bloody log, rolling across the stone floors, then stopped two steps away from the pale-skinned youth.

"That is Sorg," Byzum said, his voice loud and clear.

Zalik revealed a half-grin that made the skin of the prisoners crawl away from their bodies.

The pale-skinned youth spared a glance towards Sorg then he looked down at Byzum. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I should have asked 'where is the Cloud Lotus?'"

Like a giant who was annoyed by an insect, Zalik stomped the corpse's sausage face into meat paste. "Can you give me the Cloud Lotus, Demon?"

"If you want it, get it," Byzum said while he met Zalik's gaze.

The prison miners lost their breaths. Their eyes expressed confusion that wants to ask whether Byzum was being brave or just dumb?

But before they could spout their negative reactions, Byzum butchered their ill intent with a single sweep of his demonic gaze.

At the back of Zalik, the other Worics started to summon their spirit weapons. Their bodies released an intense desire for slaughter. But they stopped.

Zalik laughed a little. His eyes were half amused, half annoyed as if he was ambushed by some weak dogs on the road.

"What is your name Demon?"

"Byzum."

"Well, that's a good name to write in front of a coffin." Zalik grinned as he gave Byzum an icy stare. "So, how do you want to die?"

"Drowned by the tits of some holy maidens," Byzum said.

Silence stood in the surroundings but Zalik slaughtered it with his laughter.

"Perverted comedian, you are, Byzum. So one last question. Why don't you want to give the Cloud Lotus?"

"Because I will use it as a decoration for your burial," Byzum said then threw the Gift of Seals which he stole from Sorg's treasure chest.

The smile of Zalik became stiff for he seemed to know that it was a sealing treasure. Yet he was too late to evade it.

The Gift of Seals exploded into bright crystal lights. But before it could seal the Worics, Zalik threw a dark spear towards Byzum.

Byzum was prepared. But he cannot defend what his eyes cannot see. So he tried to move away but he was already too late as he saw a spear.

A savage-looking spear pierced Byzum's chest where a human heart should have been.

Byzum wanted to move but he was nailed on the spot. He could feel the spear's coldness, its ruthlessness. It razed his meridians with the torrent of cold spells which came from a brutal blizzard.

The pain froze the veins of Byzum, but it pushed him to move. It pushed him to act.

Using his burning blood, Byzum destroyed the dark spear, exploding it into a mist of agony. It hurt a lot. But Byzum ate the pain like how he had eaten some virgin fruits.

Byzum wanted to return the favor and make Zalik pay some blood. But he knew that it was time to escape.