Lu Yi could no longer use the Cruciatus Curse, but he had plenty of other tricks.
The other reserve members swarmed in too, pummeling the culprit.
As Lu Yi held the Death Messenger in place for the others to attack, he felt the bottleneck in his Soul Power quietly shatter. He had reached level thirty.
All he needed was a Soul Ring, and he would be a Soul Elder.
In one year and one month, he had gained thirteen levels—an average of one per month.
Even excluding the Soul Power gained through external means, his cultivation alone had raised it by a full seven levels.
But unless a Soul Beast perfectly suited to him fell from the sky, there was no time to obtain a Soul Ring now.
Meanwhile, Xuan Zi had assessed the Inner Court disciples' injuries.
"Thank heavens! Thank heavens! They're all just injured!"
Xuan Zi murmured to himself. A trace of remorse showed through the grief on his face, and he cursed himself again.
Ma Xiaotao, Dai Yueheng, and Ling Luochеn had been caught in the explosion, but their powerful cultivation and defenses had kept their injuries relatively light.
Chen Zifeng, Xixi, Gongyang Mo, and Yao Haoxuan had suffered blast injuries and been tainted by varying degrees of Corpse Poison.
Xuan Zi's grief turned to towering rage.
He turned and clenched his hand toward the barely breathing Death Messenger from afar.
In an instant, the Death Messenger's body curled inward as though crushed by tremendous pressure. Every bone in his body shattered, and then an invisible force imploded him into a mass of bloody pulp. Nothing human remained.
Xuan Zi casually tossed the mass aside. The compressed flesh landed on the ground and bounced slightly, like a springy giant meatball, without breaking apart.
"Wang Yan, take the