Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 278

Chapter 278: DRAGON FORGE
“How?” Lan Cheng muttered in stunned disbelief, his eyes widening as he stared ahead.

The crimson blood tide parted obediently down the middle, flowing around Aaron like a tamed beast recognizing its superior master, the liquid writhing in submission.

With effortless control, Aaron reversed the tide’s direction, amplifying its lethality tenfold before hurling it back toward Lan Cheng in a vengeful tsunami.

“Saber moon slash!” interjected Jin Shizui, the Demon Saber Elder, materializing in front of Lan Cheng in a flash of demonic energy.

He swung his massive saber in a gleaming crescent arc, cleaving the returning blood tide cleanly in two and dispersing it into harmless mist.

“Heavy hand five decay curse!” bellowed Chang Ling, the Elder of Curses, lunging toward Aaron while extending his five fingers like deadly talons.

The tip of each digit glowed with a sickly darkish-green luminescence, radiating malevolent curse energy as he reached for Aaron’s head, intent on afflicting him with a decaying malediction that would rot flesh from bone.

“Ghost claws!” Jian Wuxian supported the assault from behind, illusory spectral claws manifesting over his hands in ethereal, wailing forms as he thrust them toward Aaron’s exposed back.

“Urgh!” Both elders groaned in unison, their attacks interrupted by excruciating pain as shadow spikes erupted from the ground, impaling them through limbs and torsos.

Their arms, legs, and chests were pierced by multiple writhing shadows that hoisted them aloft like macabre puppets, blood dripping from the wounds in rivulets.

Aaron manipulated his shadows with casual precision, manifesting a colossal, toothy maw from his own elongated shadow that lunged forward and devoured both elders whole, the grotesque crunching sounds muffled within.

The remaining elders stared in horrified shock as rivulets of fresh blood seeped through the gaps in the shadow’s jagged teeth, leaving the gruesome details of their comrades’ demise to the darkest corners of imagination.

The branch master displayed the slightest flicker of displeasure on his masked face at Aaron’s effortless dominance.

“He was holding back his abilities while fighting your jiangshi,” the branch master commented evenly, beginning a slow, deliberate walk toward Aaron, each step exuding quiet confidence.

“You all fall back. You won’t be able to deal with him. He’s above your league,” the branch master instructed firmly, his strides unhurried yet purposeful as he approached the sealed space.

“We can deal with him, branch master. Just give us the chance to—”

“Reduce your numbers even further from six to two? I said fall back,” the branch master cut him off sharply, his command absolute and leaving no room for further rebuttal or ego.

He continued advancing until he stood mere steps from Aaron, the air between them thickening with tension.

“I am Chen Wo, the branch master of the Demonic Cult, and the son of the Heavenly Demon, Chen Mo,” the branch master introduced himself with measured poise, his voice carrying the weight of his lineage.

“Aaron Highborn, the Night Father,” Aaron responded in kind, meeting the introduction with equal composure.

“I would have loved to recruit someone of your standing to our cause. It’s rare to see someone as strong as you. But I’m sure of your answer. There is no way someone as arrogant as you will choose to serve under someone,” Chen Wo remarked, a hint of regret in his tone as he caressed the sheathed sword at his side affectionately, his fingers tracing its contours like a cherished relic.

Aaron simply observed Chen Wo with arms crossed, his posture radiating unwavering confidence in his own unparalleled strength, unfazed by the impending threat.

“This is a gift bestowed upon me by the Heavenly Demon for my many services to the cult. A weapon forged from the scales of the imoogi defeated by the Heavenly Demon himself. Only those deserving get to meet their end at the hands of Dragon Forged.”

“Consider it an honor to fall by the blade of Dragon Forged,” Chen Wo murmured, unsheathing the blade from its scabbard with a slow, reverent motion.

The blade of the sword was dark. Profoundly, unnaturally dark, so devoid of light that it didn’t reflect the world around it but seemed to erase it entirely, swallowing photons into an abyss. Gazing upon it evoked the sensation of peering into a void that had mastered the art of weaponry, a hungry nothingness shaped into lethal elegance.

Its aura was subdued, almost unnervingly quiet, yet Aaron could feel it caressing his skin like a thin, insidious strand of killing intent, not brash or overwhelming, but steady, cold, and profoundly alive, brushing against his senses like a predator’s breath.

At the center of the blade, ancient inscriptions were etched deep into the metal, their origins shrouded in mystery. They didn’t glow or pulse with energy… but the longer Aaron stared, the more it seemed as though the symbols were staring back, ancient eyes awakening to appraise him.

Black sphere vibrated wildly with unbridled excitement upon detecting the blade’s presence, its ego surging with ravenous hunger that communicated telepathically to Aaron in insistent, eager pulses.

“Your blade. I want it,” Aaron declared aloud, mentally vowing to the black sphere that the sword would soon be its prized possession.

Chen Wo smiled faintly, having anticipated Aaron’s covetous words. It was a common refrain from foes who met their unexpected demise shortly after uttering them.

[Aaron, be careful. He is dangerous. That blade poses a great threat to you.]

“What do you mean?” Aaron inquired inwardly, a rare edge of curiosity piercing his thoughts, as the system seldom issued warnings about adversaries.

[Pay close attention to the aura emanating from the blade.]

Aaron heeded the system’s caution, attuning his senses to the subtle emanations from the weapon, his expression darkening gravely as confirmation dawned upon him.

“That aura… It’s the same as…”

[The aura from your Primordial talents. It seems the weapon was forged from an Imoogi of Primordial rank.]

Chen Wo studied Aaron’s shifting expression intently, noting the subtle change with keen interest.

“Quite the perception you have. I was right about you. You are strong,” Chen Wo praised, genuine respect threading his voice.

“Come. It’s been a while since I’ve had an enjoyable battle,” Chen Wo beckoned, his stance shifting into readiness, eyes gleaming with anticipation beneath the mask.

“What’s in it for me?” Aaron asked the system privately, probing for deeper insight into the peril the blade represented.

[He has the means to counter your Primordial talents. While I doubt you can truly die thanks to your origin bloodline, I’m certain you can be put through a world of great hurt and pain.]

“Tsk. Not the first time I’ve defeated enemies without suffering a single scratch,” Aaron retorted with unshakable confidence, his focus sharpening to its absolute peak as he prepared for a battle with genuine high stakes for the first time in far too long, adrenaline coursing through him like fire.