Akentu's eyes showed a trace of disdain. It merely pointed at Floro with the index finger of its right claw, and she immediately let out a wail, plummeting from midair and crashing heavily to the ground. She could no longer get back up.
It pointed at the sole remaining dragon, and that dragon let out a miserable cry before flying backward and slamming into a metal pillar nearby.
Akentu looked down at the three defeated survivors, a cold sneer appearing on its face.
"Akentu." Floro lay facedown on the ground, her face covered in blood. She inhaled softly, her expression unchanged, but her voice was as cold as Ten Thousand Years of Cold Ice. "You've already killed several of my companions. Are you truly determined to fight us to the death, even at the cost of affecting the master's plan? Don't forget—we have a common enemy. They've entered this world as well."
Akentu raised its head, its horns held high, looking rather arrogant—in its eyes, this game of cat and mouse was merely revenge for these damned reptiles' disrespect at the start.
It felt it necessary to make these reptiles understand who the master's most capable subordinate was, rather than those unreliable traitors who had only pledged themselves temporarily.
It did not answer Floro's question at once. Instead, it silently surveyed the underground space.
Demons could see through darkness with ease, catching even the faintest trace of light within it. To Akentu, this pitch-black underground space was as bright as broad daylight at noon.
It was a spacious hall—but it looked more like a workshop. Row after row of metal platforms stood in the hall, and farther away was another row of metal cultivation tanks.
There were twelve in all. At the position of the thirteenth, the metal cultivation tank