Chapter 83: The Hand of Death
The Hand of Death
"This monster..."
"How is he reading every movement I make?"
No matter how he attacked...
Damien always appeared exactly where he needed to be.
Every sword strike targeted the weakest point in his defense.
Every movement forced him onto the defensive.
The pressure mounted relentlessly.
Austin watched with widened eyes.
Only now did he truly understand why Victor had personally sent Damien here.
This wasn’t merely a genius.
This was a future Sword Emperor in the making.
The surrounding Salvatore Family disciples gradually found themselves holding their heads higher.
Moments earlier...
Despair had consumed the entire family.
Now...
Hope had returned.
Their main family had not abandoned them.
It had sent one of its brightest prodigies.
Someone capable of standing against a Great Perfection Celestial Gate Realm expert despite the vast difference in cultivation.
The elder suddenly let out an enraged roar.
"You’ve forced me far enough!"
His aura exploded once more.
Blood-colored True Spiritual Power gathered around both hands before rapidly condensing into an enormous crimson palm that blotted out the ceiling.
The terrifying pressure descended toward Damien.
The surrounding space trembled violently.
Austin instinctively stepped forward.
His body moved before his mind could think.
He couldn’t simply watch his younger clansman face such danger alone.
But before he could reach Damien—
An ancient voice slowly echoed through the hall.
It was calm.
Ancient.
Filled with unquestionable authority.
"The Lord’s junior wishes to take your life..."
"...that alone is already the greatest honor your insignificant existence could ever receive."
A terrifying pressure descended from the heavens.
The blood-colored giant palm instantly froze in midair.
Every person present felt their breathing stop.
The black-robed elder’s face lost every trace of color.
Cold sweat poured down his forehead.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
He recognized this feeling.
It wasn’t merely powerful.
It was absolute.
The kind of power that rendered resistance meaningless.
The ancient voice continued.
"And yet..."
"...instead of kneeling in gratitude for such mercy..."
"...you dare raise your hand against him?"
The hall fell into absolute silence.
Even the raging winds outside stopped.
Every gaze turned toward the entrance.
A shadow slowly emerged from the afternoon sunlight.
An old man dressed in plain black robes stepped forward with unhurried steps.
His black hair swayed gently behind him.
His black eyes were as calm as an endless abyss.
Every step he took seemed to cause the surrounding space itself to tremble.
It was...
Elder Black.
"The Lord’s junior wishes to take your life—that is already your supreme honor."
"Instead of thanking heaven for such grace..."
"You dare to strike back?"
The ancient voice drifted through the grand hall like a whisper carried from the beginning of time.
It wasn’t loud.
It didn’t shake the walls.
Yet every single person present felt those words echo directly inside their souls.
The temperature in the hall plummeted.
The air itself seemed to freeze.
Even the raging blood-colored palm that Elder Wang had unleashed began trembling violently, as though the technique itself had encountered something it should never have provoked.
"..."
Silence.
A suffocating, terrifying silence.
Then—
Without anyone noticing when he had arrived...
Without sensing even the slightest fluctuation of spiritual power...
Without hearing a single footstep...
A black-clad old man was already standing behind Elder Wang.
He stood quietly.
His hands rested behind his back.
His black hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his ancient black robes fluttered gently despite the complete absence of wind.
He looked like nothing more than an ordinary old soldier who had weathered countless battlefields.
Yet...
The instant he appeared...
Every instinct inside Elder Wang screamed.
Danger.
Death.
Run.
Cold sweat instantly drenched his entire body.
His pupils shrank until they were no larger than pinpoints.
"When...?"
"When did he get behind me...?"
"I... I never sensed him!"
For the first time in decades, genuine terror flooded Elder Wang’s heart.
This...
This wasn’t an opponent he could understand.
It wasn’t even someone he could perceive.
His instincts screamed at him to escape.
Unfortunately...
His body refused to obey.
It was as though the surrounding space had solidified into invisible chains, locking every muscle, every meridian, every strand of spiritual power firmly in place.
He couldn’t move.
Not even a finger.
Not even his eyes.
Only his rapidly beating heart reminded him that he was still alive.
Damien Salvatore watched quietly from several meters away.
His grip on the Sovereign Star Blade loosened slightly.
A faint smile appeared on his youthful face.
This...
This was the true safeguard the Clan Patriarch had secretly arranged.
Elder Black.
The silent Imperial Pawn who always stood behind Victor.
The strongest shield protecting the dignity of the Salvatore Family.
Victor had anticipated everything.
The Blackstone City branch was the first branch to be welcomed back into the Sovereign Salvatore Family.
If even a trace of humiliation remained...
It would tarnish the Clan Patriarch’s authority.
That...
Was unacceptable.
A branch family...
Was still the Salvatore Family.
Anyone who dared insult the Salvatore bloodline...
Would answer with their life.
Elder Black slowly raised one weathered hand.
The hand resembled an old tree branch.
Dry.
Wrinkled.
Ordinary.
Nothing about it appeared extraordinary.
Yet the moment it gently settled upon Elder Wang’s shoulder—
No explosion occurred.
No earth-shattering shockwave.
No dazzling divine light.
Everything remained terrifyingly quiet.
"...Impossible..."
Elder Wang’s voice trembled.
His skin suddenly lost every trace of color.
His flesh rapidly withered before everyone’s horrified eyes.
Wrinkles spread across his face at an unbelievable speed.
His muscles shrank.
His bones cracked softly beneath dried skin.
His luxurious black robes suddenly became loose as his entire body shriveled.
His thick black hair turned snow white.
Then gray.
Then...
It drifted away as fine ash.
"No..."
"My... cultivation..."
"My... lifespan..."
"My..."
His voice grew weaker.
His Heavenly Genesis Realm-level vitality disappeared like flowing water leaking through broken fingers.
Every second... and every moment...
Decades of life vanished.
His abundant true spiritual power dispersed into nothingness.
His powerful blood essence evaporated.
His soul dimmed.
Within only a few breaths...