The Holy Cult's Heretics

Above the stockade wall, two Night Wolf Gang bandits huddled in a corner, dozing off.

The light from the brazier flickered in and out under the wind, tearing the surrounding night into ragged fragments.

Yet the two bandits noticed nothing. Zhang Sanxian had already arrived like a ghost, standing silently amid the chaotic shadows behind them.

Just as Zhang Sanxian was about to step out of the shadows and begin a bloody massacre—

The powerful instincts granted by his Saiyan Bloodline suddenly "caught" a sinister, evil aura rapidly flying in through the distant rainy night.

"Hm?"

Zhang Sanxian thought in surprise, Another expert is coming?

He immediately concealed every trace of his presence, posing as an inanimate object as he remained in the shadows.

Meanwhile, the camp below was brightly lit.

Thick torches crackled as they burned, making the smell of grease, stale liquor, and the faint scent of blood hanging in the air even more choking.

Amid that pungent stench, weapon racks lay scattered across the muddy parade ground, while drunken bandits gathered around clusters of bonfires, roasting meat, laughing, eating, drinking, and shouting boisterously.

At the very heart of all that uproar—the Hall of Brotherhood—its doors stood wide open, spewing an even more thunderous clamor outside.

Under the blazing lights, Ye Junyi, chief of the Night Wolf Gang, sat firmly in the center of the hall, gripping a roasted lamb shank and tearing into it, his mouth slick with grease.

To his left and right sat, respectively, a gaunt old man, skinny as firewood with hands like withered claws—the Gray Dog Bandits' chief, "Sickly Ghost" Gou San.

And a bald, extraordinarily burly man carrying a massive axe on his back—the Oxhead Bandits' chief, "Mountain-Shaking Ox" Hong Dali.

Then, farther away from those three, sat a clean-faced, long-bearded middle-aged