These damned people still hadn't left? They had already destroyed his city—could they still have discovered him underground?
This place was already far from the surface. Could they still find him?
Back then, he had escaped disaster precisely by relying on this method.
He had long been mentally prepared for his mental-force constructs to be destroyed. But as long as the power of faith continued flowing in, he could still endure it.
As long as he did not die, everything was negotiable.
The greatest benefit of absorbing the power of faith was that, so long as his believers were not destroyed, recovering his strength was easy. It could be replenished at any time; it was merely a matter of time.
Just then, his expression changed, and rage surged within him.
He had always manifested birds outside to watch the surroundings. Sure enough, it was that Dole. He knew where he was.
Damn it, how did he know?
Damn it, I have to kill him.
At that moment, there was only one thought in the chaotic mind of the Nightmare Patriarch: kill that damned Dole. He was beginning to regret not personally setting out back then to kill Dole in one stroke, leaving him no opportunities whatsoever.
Even as rage consumed him, his mind spun madly, searching for a way to escape.
The ninth level of dream rules was not what he had imagined. Though he was now ninth level, he did not possess ninth-level combat power. Only by invading other ninth-level beings could he achieve the effect of the ninth level. Had he been allowed to develop peacefully, he absolutely could have become the strongest ninth level. But now, with so many ninth levels pouncing on him together, he had no chance at all.
Damn it.
Did he have to