Nobilis of War

Chapter 1385 Take Them Away

"Brother, do you know where Mother is? I miss her so much," the little straw girl sniffed as she asked. It

was evident that she was overwhelmed by sadness when she thought of their mother.

"I don't know."

"Humph! You know, but you won't tell me," the little straw girl grumbled. After a moment's pause, she

asked, "Do you think we cannot see her?"

The straw man remained silent. His eyes were cold and emotionless as he gazed into the distance.

"Bro, is there something that I can do for you?" Darren could tell that the straw man who had followed

him knew something.

"My name is Wind, and my younger sister's name is Rain. Don't call me bro. I don't like it," Wind

remarked flatly.

"Well. Wind, what happened to your mother?" Darren nodded and asked.

"You can leave now. I don't know my mother's whereabouts. Besides, it's none of your business," Wind

replied in a dull and cold voice.

"Uh... Okay." Since Wind didn't feel like speaking, Darren dropped the idea of asking more questions.

After all, he was just curious, and this matter didn't concern him.

"Then, I'll see you later," he said.

Darren collected the colorful flag with one hand and lifted Sewell's head in the other before setting out

for the battlefield where Finley and the others were.

The battle was still raging when he arrived.

The two sides had suffered tremendous losses. When Darren glanced around, he noticed that there

were only six cultivators left in Sewell's team. Over twenty cultivators had been killed on Eallard's side.

"Kneel and surrender!"

Darren stopped midair and roared.

His voice echoed like thunder. It was so loud that everyone could hear him over the noise of the battle.

Shocked, both sides stopped fighting and looked in his direction.

"It's Darren! He is back. Finally!"

"What's in his hand?"

"Ah, it's Sewell's head!"

The cultivators in Eallard's team were overjoyed to see Darren holding Sewell's head. The warriors who

followed Sewell gasped, and their faces turned pale.

With mouths agape, they peered at the object in Darren's hand. Sewell had lost? It was such a

shocking incident that they could hardly believe it. How could a middle-level Celestial God Realm like

Sewell lose?

They couldn't accept it, but when they saw the colorful flag in Darren's hand, despair coursed through

them.

"You! You killed Sewell!"

"How could it be possible? How could he die?"

"Don't be frightened, everyone. This guy must have used some trick to kill Sewell. He doesn't have the

fighting power to defend against us all. Let's kill him together!"

The six men didn't surrender as Darren had expected. On the contrary, they believed they could kill

him, and thus, took the initiative to attack.

"Humph, don't overestimate yourselves,"

Darren muttered as he remained motionless. Simultaneously, he released a violent sword intent.

Shoop! Shoop! Shoop!

The powerful sword intent terrified the six hostile cultivators.

"Retreat!" someone shouted, but it was too late.

The sword intent sliced through the cultivators, leaving gaping wounds on their bodies. For some, the

injuries extended deep into their bones. NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

With one move, he had hurt all six of them.

Even Eallard and his companions were stunned. They hadn't seen Darren for a while. Why did he look

like a different person? And when did his sword intent become so strong?

Meanwhile, Finley and Darren's other friends couldn't wait to fly over.

"Wow, Darren!"

"Boss, you are so fierce! Six in one move? Have you broken through to the middle-level of the Celestial

God Realm? Incredible!"

"Darren, you are so powerful. This is great!"

They were overjoyed and couldn't contain their enthusiasm.

"We'll talk later. Let's deal with these despicable people first."

The cultivators, who had been injured by the sword intent, trembled in midair. As soon as the toxin

invaded their bones, the unbearable itching began.

"Spare... Spare my life...Please!"

"Darren, listen to me... I can explain..."

The six cultivators rolled over and begged. No matter how hard they tried, the itching feeling wouldn't

subside. In a matter of seconds, they had scratched themselves till they were bleeding. And yet, the

torment didn't end.

Eallard and the others flew over and looked at them coldly.

"You scumbags! You killed so many of our friends. How dare you beg for mercy? Fuck off!" Eallard

roared, distressed and disgusted.

"Kill them! Avenge my junior sister apprentice!"

"Cut them to pieces! They don't deserve to live! Come on!"

All the young talents who had survived were furious and sought revenge.

"No, I won't,"

Darren replied calmly, before instructing the others to quiet down.

"Why don't you kill them, Darren? They will hunt us down later!"

"That's right, Darren. We should kill them. You can't be too merciful!"

Many cultivators were anxious, but Darren's strength had soared, surpassing everyone else's. They

didn't dare decide without his approval.

"Ha-ha, you all misunderstood." Darren had never been forgiving toward his enemies as he knew the

ramifications of letting them live!

"How many of our companions have these scumbags killed? If we end them now, wouldn't it be a good

deal for them? They need to be tortured slowly. That's the price they should pay!" Darren glared at the

six groveling cultivators as he spoke.

"I see. Right, they deserve prolonged agony! That's perfect, Darren!"

"I agree. Good idea, Darren!"

After having witnessed Darren's power and strength, everyone automatically respected him.

"Darren, I'm afraid that we won't be able to punish them if their masters come. We need to hurry up!"

Eallard reminded. He believed that if the big shots suddenly appeared, they would protect these

cultivators who followed Sewell.

"Don't worry. Even if the ancestor of the human race was here, I wouldn't show any mercy, and I would

kill them right in front of the ancestor. Humph!" Darren snorted coldly.

"Great!"

However, as soon as he finished speaking, the sky filled with clouds, and the space rippled.

A shadow in a blue robe fluttered out of the space and gradually condensed.

"It's... it's their master! He's here!"

someone remarked. It seemed as though several cultivators recognized him.

Although this master was not as famous as Lord Starry Sword or Lord Feng, his strength was on par

with theirs.

"Master..." someone cried out, "Darren has killed my junior brother. Please get justice for him."

The middle-aged man in the cyan robe placed his arms behind him and glanced at the cultivator

indifferently.

"We already know about this. I am here to take away these bastards," explained the middle-aged man

in the cyan robe.

"What?"

"Sir, why would you take them away?"

"Yes, sir. We can't spare them. They have gone too far!"

The crowd appeared anxious as they voiced their questions. Desperation was evident in the expression

on several of their faces.

"Don't speak anymore. These six cultivators were bewitched by the evil creature, Sewell, and made

mistakes. It's excusable. I'm going to take them back to punish them."

The explanation rendered the cultivators speechless.

Excusable? What did he mean?

Why would he be so forgiving toward them? Why did these six cultivators deserve such a privilege?

Dozens of human talents had died at their hands. How could he claim that their offense was

excusable? What kind of logic was this?

"Sir, perhaps their misdeeds are excusable to you, but not us. They must die today,"

Darren said calmly.

He had no reason to be compassionate. After all, once Darren returned to the battlefield after his fight

with Sewell at the straw men's base camp, these six cultivators tried to overpower him. The only

reason they failed was that his cultivation level had improved. Had that not been the case, they would

have slaughtered him. This he was certain about.

What was more, these people had killed many of their companions and even threatened Finley and the

others. How could they be spared now?

Moreover, they had provoked and framed Darren repeatedly. If Darren didn't get rid of such villains, it

would be foolish on his behalf!

How could the cyan-robed middle-aged man believe that Darren would accept his rationale and be

lenient just because he thought so?

"Young man, don't overestimate yourself. Be careful, and don't stir the pot. Give them to me," the man

in cyan robe growled, and his face darkened.

He was aware of his limitations. He could appear in front of Darren in the form of a shadow because of

the joint efforts of the big shots. As he had no fighting power, he could not take these six disciples away

forcefully. So when Darren refused to comply, his only option was to intimidate him.

"Sir, you don't have to say anything else. I won't let them go no matter what you say,"

Darren refused firmly.

"You! How dare you?" the middle-aged man in the cyan robe thundered.