Sign-In System: Starting With Invincible Physique

Chapter 45: Vargas’s Identity

"Motherf**ker!"

Seeing Elder Jorlan’s lifeless corpse being humiliated under Vargas’s boot, Torin’s eyes burned with bloodthirsty killing intent.

Torin roared.

The ground shattered as he shot forward.

His fist, carrying the absolute, unreserved limits of his peak Level 9 cultivation, aimed directly at Vargas’s skull.

Vargas’s dead eyes narrowed. He pushed his own blood-red essence to its peak, raising his arms to meet the devastating blow head-on.

BOOM!

The collision shattered the rocky ground beneath them.

Before Torin could press the attack, the other three Level 9 experts moved.

The Barlowe Head Elder and the two Ironpeak elders struck from the sides and rear, their auras erupting in unison.

Simultaneously, the remaining dozen experts surged forward, raining blades and concentrated essence down on Torin from every direction.

Surrounded and outnumbered, Torin fought desperately.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

He deflected a descending sword and shattered an incoming palm print.

But there were too many. Blades sliced his arms, and heavy punches battered his ribs.

Blood sprayed across the rocky ground as he frantically traded blows with the overwhelming force.

A heavy palm slammed into Torin’s back, breaking his stance.

Torin stumbled forward.

In that fraction of a second, a figure slipped into his guard.

Vargas.

Squelch.

A sharp dagger pierced straight through Torin’s chest.

Vargas twisted the hilt and kicked him away.

Torin stumbled. His legs gave out.

He crashed to his knees, utterly exhausted, his breathing ragged as dark red blood rapidly soaked his robes.

"How does it feel?"

Vargas standing over him spoke.

Torin ignored it.

He lowered his head, staring at the blood pooling around his knees, and estimated how much strength he had left in him.

He merely spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm to the side.

The next second, a heavy boot smashed directly into his ribs.

Torin was violently kicked to the dirt.

The Head Elder of the Barlowe family, Byron stepped forward, his expression completely twisted with rage.

"Gerrick. Morbin. Piran."

Byron gritted his teeth. "Were you the one who killed them?"

Torin gave a bitter laugh.

He bared his bloodstained teeth in a grin.

"Dead? Good."

"It’s just a damn pity I didn’t get to wring their necks myself."

Byron’s expression turned incomparably ugly.

"You piece of trash," he cruelly spat. "I will personally kill both you and Roderick, tearing you apart piece by piece."

"No rush."

Vargas chuckled, it was a harsh sound.

He stepped in front of Torin, looking down with an easy, casual tone. "Are you confused why you’re not dead yet?"

Vargas didn’t wait for Torin’s response, he reached up to grab the dark cloth mask and tore it off.

Torin froze for three seconds.

Then his brain crashed.

Hideous, centipede-like scars crisscrossed the man’s entire face, completely warping his features into something monstrous.

"Vargas!"

Torin’s eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.

He knew that face perfectly.

Decades ago, the Scarlet Fang Bandits had been the most ruthless, bloodthirsty plague in all of Greymist Town.

And this man was their undisputed leader.

Torin furiously turned his gaze toward the Ironpeak and Barlowe elders.

"You shameless bastards..."

Torin gritted his teeth. "You parade around as righteous factions, but you secretly collude with a bandit?"

He spat again. "Utterly disgusting."

Samael, the male Level 9 elder from the Ironpeak Sect merely threw his head back and laughed.

"Righteousness?"

He looked at Torin with absolute disdain. "That ridiculous so-called ’righteousness’ is exactly why your Azure Cloud Sect is decaying. And it’s exactly why you will be completely wiped off the map soon."

Vargas sneered, his dead eyes burning with venom.

"Back then, because of you and your righteous sect, my brothers were slaughtered."

"I had to flee Greymist like a beaten dog."

Vargas stepped closer, his oppressive aura pressing down. "But now? I’ve returned just to watch your entire sect burn to the ground."

He looked down at Torin.

"I’ll keep you alive, Torin. I want you to sit here and watch as every single elder and disciple you brought gets murdered. I want you to feel that despair."

Vargas didn’t waste another word. He raised his hand and waved.

"Bring them out."

Five people were forcibly dragged to the front.

Four of them were bound tightly in heavy essence-sealing chains.

Azure Cloud Sect elders.

They were covered in blood and injuries, looking absolutely miserable.

But the fifth person wasn’t chained.

She stood there, her flawless face deathly pale, her silver-white hair completely disheveled and tainted with dirt.

Seris.

Standing right beside her, his hand resting casually on her shoulder, was Valerius.

He had a mocking sneer plastered across his face.

Torin’s pupils contracted.

His heart bled at the sight.

"Vargas!" Torin roared, his voice tearing his throat raw. "May you rot in the deepest level of hell!"

Vargas merely chuckled.

"I’ll start by executing every single one of them right in front of your eyes. One by one."

Torin struggled wildly against the boots holding him down.

"I’ll kill you!"

Vargas threw his head back and laughed aloud.

"Just kidding."

Vargas crouched down, his scarred face inches from Torin’s.

"They’re still breathing because they still have value."

His tone turned ice-cold and absolutely ruthless.

"If you want them to live..."

"You’re going to do exactly what we say."

____________

The journey eastward was swift and completely silent.

Rhain’s team hardly faced any obstacles on the way.

Now, they were less than a mile away.

But before they could cover the remaining distance—

ROAR—!

A sudden, earth-shaking roar reached their ears.

It wasn’t just one.

"Graaaawr!"

"Kriiii-screee!" 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

As the approached closer, the very ground beneath their boots had began to tremble.

Maren and others halted on their tracks.

"This scale..." Maren whispered solemnly, "A beast tide?"

"We can’t go in there!" Garon, yelled, "A beast tide will trample us into meat paste!

"Keep up," Rhain ordered coldly.

"It is our people," Rhain stated, his voice slicing through the rising panic of the group. "They are trapped right in the center of it."

Without a single millisecond of wasting time, his figure flashed forward.

Maren and the others swallowed their sheer terror, drew their weapons, and desperately rushed after him.

Moments later, Rhain broke through the treeline and came to an abrupt halt at the edge of a massive, bowl-shaped gorge.

Maren, Hale, Bria, and the others stumbled to a stop right behind him, looking down into the valley.

The moment their eyes registered the scene below, their scalps went completely numb.

The gorge was entirely flooded with ferocious beasts.

There were more than a hundred of them.

Massive shadow-wolves the size of horses, iron-scaled panthers, and towering four-armed apes.

Their realms were not very strong, most of them were only comparable to Essence Awakening Realm, but their sheer number made them frightening.

Their eyes filled with a maddened, blood-red light as they swarmed forward like an unstoppable force.

And right in the absolute dead center of that terrifying sea of monsters, a desperate, bloody battle was taking place.

"Down there!" Bria pointed with a trembling finger.

Surrounded on all sides, completely cut off from any route of escape, was a small defensive circle of cultivators.

Rhain’s dark grey irises narrowed slightly as faint golden rings ignited within his pupils.

There were exactly ten people trapped in the center.

Four of the trapped cultivators wore the tattered, blood-soaked azure robes of their sect.

All four of them were the elders of the Azure Cloud Sect.

Fighting along them were six Graves family members.

And standing at the absolute forefront of the defensive ring was a a figure welding a heavy, broad-bladed sword.

Roderick Graves.

Seris wasn’t there.

Rhain clenched his fist tightly, a dense crushing aura, releasing from his still body.