Each With Their Own Agenda

Bang!

A gunshot rang out. A bullet wreathed in Black Flame struck the rider's swollen skull, and with a dull impact, the surging fire burst into a spray of sparks and whirling fragments.

"Duke above, why is that fire black?" a knight under the Black Duke's direct command exclaimed from the woods. "Intelligence Chief, that man's strong. Looks like the test failed. What do we do?"

The newly appointed Intelligence Chief's face was cold. He glanced at his horrified adjutant, then sneered. "Save our men, of course. Move."

He drove his heels into his horse and charged toward the battlefield with a dozen subordinates. His gaze darkened as it settled on Xia Lun, who was slaughtering his men single-handedly.

Humm—

The chill blade swept up Black Flame and slashed into the egg sac writhing like a chrysanthemum on the Black-Clad Rider's chest.

Amid the dark firelight, the gelatinous skin stretched across its jagged ribs split open. Sharp ice crystals crept over the tendrils waving from the sac, only to be crushed by them an instant later.

Xia Lun drew back half a step, avoiding the Black-Clad Rider's flailing tendrils. Then he tightened his core, planted a light foot in the mud, twisted at the waist, and swung again.

Humm—

Black Flame flashed and vanished. Dark slime flecked with ice flew from the blade. Xia Lun's expression remained cold as he slipped past its side like a breeze, leaving severed flesh and blood in his wake.

Yet the Black-Clad Rider still wasn't dead.

Xia Lun narrowed his eyes.

This last Black-Clad Rider could take a beating. Its resilience even rivaled that of the Abyssal Hand from the first-round Scenario.

The Black-Clad Rider had long since ceased to be human. It merely wore human skin. Its organs had been replaced or devoured;