Reaper of the Martial World

Book 11: Chapter 32: Dead (2)

Chenglei’s roar disoriented the Overlords. In the next instant, his body rapidly shrunk, revealing the form of a man covered in black scales. His horns curved menacingly atop his head, his strength blooming to a level that made the Overlords tremble.

How could they forget? The most dangerous form of the Dragon Race wasn’t their beast form, but rather than hybrid form!

Dyon seemed to resonate with Chenglei’s conviction. In that moment, his Death Dao trembled, wanting to surge into the Realm of Law.

But Dyon growled furiously, suppressing it so fiercely that it almost shattered completely. Even the Heavenly Daos didn’t dare to whimper beneath his rage.

His blue eyes darkened, his light blue hair turning into a streaming black river.

His body expanded in size, reaching Chenglei’s same three meter height.

Black scales sprung all across his body, two horns just as menacing as Chenglei’s own springing from his head.

The resonance of Dyon’s roar deepened. It was as though he had truly become a beast. That very handsome appearance that had maybe stopped the Overlords from feeling the fear they should have vanished.

Their knees trembled, their hearts quaking as a demonic qi surged from Dyon’s body.

The Dragon King sprung from his wrist, forming a long, slender black pole that stretched to his side for 5 meters.

One would think that was it. Maybe this fearsome character wanted to use some odd pole art. But the next change only made their hearts tremble fiercer.

The long staff began to slowly change. The ominous curve of a glistening black blade began to etch itself into existence inch by inch.

It crackled under the intense heat of Dyon’s chaos flames and shone under the bright flashes of his lightning dao.

The curve of the scythe became long to the point of being obscene. Dyon held out the five-meter polearm to perfectly perpendicular to his side, yet to curved so viciously that the very end of its blade only ended a certain distance beneath Dyon’s feet.

Dyon’s golden wings were slowly taken over by his black flames, their golden sheen darkening into a dense, deep obsidian.

They expanded along with his size, spreading through the air along with his scythe.

“[Dance of the Devil]… [A Murky Night]…”

Dyon lifted his arm, joining the battle in tandem with Chenglei. His strikes were swift and ethereal, disappearing into the fog of shadow and reappearing like the sound of thunder. The claps of sonic booms resounded through the battlefield, blasting craters into the ground below.

The black devil Overlord trembled at Dyon’s appearance. How could he not recognize the root of his bloodline, the Demon Qilin? He was suppressed so severely that he was the first to suffer a tragic injury.

Dyon’s scythe cut down the length of his shoulder, ripping apart of his torso and taking with it half his leg down its length.

An agonizing roar shook the skies, but he didn’t even have the chance to recollect himself before Chenglei appeared to his side, following up Dyon’s attack as though they shared a shadow.

His claw-like shot forward, ripping out a piece of his face as though the black scales that acted as his protection meant next to nothing.

Dyon swerved in from Chenglei’s back, following up the attack with yet another swivel of his scythe and taking out another arm.

The black devil Overlord could only turn to run. His Race was ranked second below the 12 Overlord Clans, yet he was actually the first to end up in such a sorry state.

However, even if he wanted to run, would the draconic duo allow him? The other Overlords tried to stop it, but it was already too late.

Chenglei appeared in his escape path, shooting a clawed kicked toward the latter’s head.

Dyon appeared to his back like a ghost, utilizing [Shadow Escape] from Orcus’ legacy on a casual whim. His body became no different from a wisp of smoke, vanishing and appearing as it pleased. With a thought, a fist tore through space, aiming for the back of the black devil’s head.

BOOM!

The two attacks landed at once.

The skull of the black devil was actually so strong that he didn’t die instantly. Instead, the sickening sound of his bones cracking and his brain turning to mush sounded through the battlefield.

Like a bursting rain of flesh, blood and bone, his headless corpse hell to the ground.

There was no doubt that the black devils had incredibly robust bodies. The overlord was so heavy that when his corpse contacted the ground, it tore its way through, falling for hundreds of meters through the tough earth before finally coming to a stop.

Dyon and Chenglei roared into the skies as though announcing their war kill. The thumping hearts of their enemies rushed through their ears like steroids pumping through one’s veins as they surged forward once more.

Their minds were filled with thoughts of murder and slaughter, of flesh and blood… Nothing would satiate them… maybe even killing was not enough.

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