With a thunderous boom, the newcomer neither dodged nor evaded, crashing head-on into the Fire Dragon and shattering it into sparks that filled the sky. A flicker of black radiance flashed past. The Spell Cultivator hovering in midair swayed slightly, blood spurting from his neck as he plunged headfirst toward the ground.
The Black Streak, wreathed in lightning, had already charged into the fray. Wherever it passed, screams rang out in succession, severed limbs and mangled flesh flying everywhere. The already chaotic, blood-soaked battlefield instantly became an Asura Hell.
Amid the crowd, Lu Ye stared at the dancing Black Streak. Though he had no idea who had come and could not make out their movements, that black streak gave him an immensely familiar feeling.
It was an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
Lu Ye lowered his head to look at his Battlefield Mark. A faint warmth came from it, and from the Black Streak came a sensation of sharing the same origin.
This was... someone from the Crimson Blood Sect?
The Crimson Blood Sect still had disciples?
He did not know the Crimson Blood Sect's exact circumstances. Based on what he had learned so far, he had always believed that his sect, which had not taken in disciples for thirty years and was about to be struck from the rolls, had no one left besides himself and the Sect Master.
But now, it seemed that was not the case. The Crimson Blood Sect still had disciples—at the very least, one more.
"Forget about her! Kill Lu Ye!"
Someone in the crowd shouted.
Before the words had even faded, the Black Streak had already pounced before him. The next instant, his head soared high into the air.
Streams of spells rained down from above, most of them fire-element spells. In particular, the