88: Chapter 88 Nine Nether Blood Demon Banner

"This is the place."

Voldemort looked around, seemingly nodding in satisfaction.

He stopped running and stood quietly in place, waiting for his pursuers to arrive.

No, waiting for a delicious delivery to arrive at his doorstep.

Before long.

Six streaks of light shot out from the ground one after another, landing around Voldemort and surrounding him in a fan shape.

"Devil Head, see where you can escape to now!!!" The burly man in the lead spoke first, his voice like thunder.

Voldemort, however, was unhurried; instead, he laughed: "Escape? Who said I was going to escape? I am choosing a geomantically auspicious place for you all to be buried."

"Arrogant!" The female Cultivator snapped, her soft whip lashing out like a spirit snake, emitting a crisp "snap" in the air.

Voldemort shook his head and sighed: "It seems you still do not understand your own situation."

"Nine Nether Blood Devil Flag, rise!"

As his voice fell, nine blood-colored banners suddenly appeared within a radius of one kilometer, with Voldemort at the center.

The flags were a deep blood-red, embroidered with golden thread depicting hideous demon patterns.

Even more eerily, as soon as these banners landed, the demon patterns on them began to squirm.

Demons poked their bodies out from the flag surfaces, opening their blood-filled mouths and letting out silent roars.

Although they were merely phantoms, the ferocious aura they emitted was as tangible as reality.

"Woo!!!"

The nine banners shook simultaneously, and the demon phantoms on them spewed rolling Devilish Qi from their mouths.

This Devilish Qi was pitch black like ink, carrying a bone-chilling cold and a foul stench, instantly spreading everywhere.

The Devilish Qi blotted out the sky and sun, light was completely cut off, and the surroundings plunged into darkness.

Only the nine banners emitted a ghostly blood-red light, like nine open demon eyes, coldly staring at the people trapped in the Formation.

"Not good! We have entered the Devil Head's Formation!"

The thin male Cultivator's expression changed drastically. He hurriedly took the gourd from his back, pulled out the stopper, and a stream of clear spring water sprayed from the gourd's mouth, forming a water curtain around him to block out the Devilish Qi.

"Everyone be careful! This Formation is not simple!" The middle-aged male Cultivator said in a deep voice. He waved the whisk in his hand, and thousands of silver threads spread out like a waterfall, forming a layer of protection around him.

The six people quickly huddled together, forming a circular Formation back-to-back, vigilantly observing their surroundings.

"We outnumber him, hold our ground!"

The burly man said loudly, trying to boost morale, "I doubt this Devil Head is a match for the six of us!"

"Right! If the six of us join forces, even a Golden Core Early Stage, we can fight!" The young scholar agreed, gently waving his folding fan, on which pale golden runes appeared.

The six of them spoke one after another, encouraging each other, and gradually calmed down.

They began to try to break the Formation, each using their own methods to attack the surroundings, attempting to find the weak point of the Formation.

The burly man slammed his dual hammers into the ground, the shockwaves spreading like ripples, but it was like a clay ox entering the sea, failing to stir up even the slightest wave.

The female Cultivator's soft whip turned into a sky full of whip shadows, lashing against the Devilish Qi barrier, making "pop-pop" sounds, but it could not break through.

The thin old man's gourd sprayed water columns, the young scholar's folding fan flew out golden runes, the middle-aged Cultivator's whisk shot out thousands of silver threads...

Various attacks raged within the Devilish Qi, but it was like hitting cotton; all were absorbed and neutralized.

Those nine blood-colored banners were as steady as Mount Tai, and the demon phantoms on the flag surfaces instead became even more solidified.

"Hehehe!"

Voldemort's strange laughter rang out in the darkness, coming from left and right, above and below, making it impossible for anyone to determine his location.

"You few, do you really think you can deal with me?"

Voldemort's voice was sinister, laced with mockery, "Who gave you the courage to chase me down here? Since you have come, don't think about leaving."

"I will peel your skin and pull your tendons, refine you into Puppets, and make you serve me for all eternity!"

"Devil Head, stop being arrogant! If you have the ability, come out and face us head-on! What kind of ability is hiding in a Formation!" The burly man roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space.

No sooner had his words fallen than a sudden change occurred.

A pale, large hand silently reached out from the Devilish Qi behind him, its six fingers like hooks, its nails sharp as knives.

This hand's speed was fast as lightning; the burly man didn't even have time to react before he felt a chill in his chest.

"Puchi!!!"

The pale palm pierced in from his back and thrust out from his chest.

In the palm, it gripped a heart that was still beating "thump-thump," and bright red blood dripped along the gaps between the fingers.

The burly man's eyes widened, and he looked down in disbelief at the palm in front of his chest.

He wanted to say something, but only let out "he-he" sounds as fresh blood gushed from his mouth.

"Senior Brother Song!" The female Cultivator screamed, her face turning deathly pale.

That hand slowly retracted, bringing the heart out with it.

The burly man's body swayed, then crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

His eyes remained wide open, filled with unwillingness and fear.

Voldemort's figure emerged from the Devilish Qi. He stood beside the burly man's corpse, his left hand gripping the broken heart, blood streaming down his arm.

"You... you..." The middle-aged Cultivator pointed at Voldemort, shaking with rage.

"What about me?" Voldemort tilted his head, revealing a morbid smile.

He raised his left hand, brought the heart to his mouth, opened his mouth, and took a bite.

The "crunch crunch" chewing sound was exceptionally clear in the silent space.

Bright red blood flowed down the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his black robes.

A look of satisfaction appeared on his face, as if he were tasting the most delicious delicacy in the world.

"Beast! You beast!" The female Cultivator screamed, her voice filled with anger and fear.

"Devil Head, I will kill you today!" The young scholar waved his folding fan, and the golden runes turned into sharp blades, slashing toward Voldemort.

"Hahaha! Exhilarating!"

Voldemort laughed loudly and ate the rest of the heart in one bite, "This is only the beginning; next, it will be your turn."

His figure once again hid within the Devilish Qi and disappeared.

"Careful! He will sneak attack again!" The middle-aged Cultivator shouted a warning, dancing his whisk around so tightly that not even wind could pass through.

The remaining five stood back-to-back, vigilantly observing their surroundings.

Their complexions were all very ugly, filled with both anger and fear.

The burly man's death made them understand that this Devil Head was even more dangerous than they had imagined.

"Everyone, do not panic!" The middle-aged Cultivator forced himself to remain calm.

However, Voldemort did not give them a chance to catch their breath at all.

"Nine Nether Blood Devils, heed my command!" Voldemort's voice came from all directions.

Following his words, the nine blood-colored banners shook violently.

The demon phantoms on the flag surfaces let out silent roars, one by one breaking free from the flag surfaces and turning into physical entities!

These demons were of various forms: some had three heads and six arms, some had wings on their backs, some were covered in bone spurs, and some spat poisonous smoke...

They roared and pounced toward the four people, numbering as many as several dozen.

"Kill!!!!"