Wizard Immortal

Chapter 187 Internal Strife

"See those three roads ahead?"

In the spacious area, looking at the three roads that were divided in front of him, Myrdor said with a solemn expression.

Ahead, the jet-black and silver trees stood silently, dividing the road into three lanes.

Golden rays of light spread along the middle road, spreading across it and emanating a sacred aura.

On the left, the silver tree stands quietly, its silver leaves swaying gently, casting rays of silver light, looking holy and beautiful.

As for the road on the far right, it was completely black, looking ordinary and unremarkable.

This represents three paths for people of three different identities to pass through.

"Only the master is qualified to pass through the middle path. If this unknown person still has a body, then he should have entered the tomb through this path."

Looking at the scene ahead, Myrd said, "Only the owner of the tomb, or the owner's descendants and relatives, are qualified to walk on this road. If others walk on it, it will cause unpredictable consequences."

"The silver road on the left, if nothing unexpected happens, should represent guests; only those who are welcome are qualified to walk on it."

"So what about the last option?"

Looking at the road ahead, Raman asked in return.

"Naturally, it's prepared for the unpopular."

At this point, Myrdor's expression remained calm, but his eyes were very serious: "Of course, if you think you'll be welcomed, you can try taking the left path, but if you fail the assessment, the consequences will be more severe than taking the right path."

"What kind of bullshit rules and etiquette are these?"

Upon hearing this, Raman frowned, somewhat unable to understand the purpose of doing so.

If they really didn't want people to pass, they could have just blocked the road. Given the level of this ruin, the two formal wizards were powerless to resist. Why did they have to set up such a ritual at the entrance?

"This is an ancient death ritual, and it has its own significance."

Myrdor neither confirmed nor denied it, but pointed directly to a stone tablet carved a few meters away.

"This is a pact and contract between the living and the dead... Outsiders who embark on the path of death, if they fail the identification, will have their souls devoured and bound by the Tree of Death, transforming them into guardians of the Sun Emperor..."

Looking at the stone tablet in the distance and the words written in Quran on it, Raman read it word by word, and then his face turned pale.

"Now you understand, right?"

Myrdor turned around and looked at the stone tablet in front of him. After a long while, he raised his arm and pointed to the trees in front of him: "These are the trees of death. Once you die on the road, your soul will be absorbed into those trees and eternally sealed in this tomb to guard this ruin."

"Is there any way to crack this?"

Looking at the stone tablet in front of him and listening to Meldor's words, Raman frowned and asked a question in return.

"Of course."

Myrdor turned around, looked at his face, and suddenly a sinister smile appeared on his face: "Sacrifice you all! Then I can naturally pass by!!"

boom!!

A violent explosion resounded from the spot, as if something had suddenly exploded. A blood-red figure appeared in front of Raman, wielding a curved blade, and slashed down directly at his opponent.

bump!!

The rapidly swirling blade sliced ​​through the surrounding air with a tearing, mournful sound. The blood-red scimitar trembled slightly, emitting a low groan like the wailing of an infant, which sounded terrifying.

This strike landed directly on the opponent, the sword wind sweeping past as if it had struck a thick piece of flesh, splattering blood and staining the surrounding ground crimson.

With a thud, Raman crashed heavily to the ground, a long gash appearing on his chest, through which his internal organs were visible.

"Why...why?!"

Suddenly struck by such a heavy blow from his companion, Raman's eyes widened as he stared in disbelief at Meldor in front of him, his gaze filled with deep confusion.

"Hehe...didn't you want to know how to get through this road? It's actually very simple."

Standing still, holding a blood-red scimitar in his right hand, Myrdor wore a sinister grin. Combined with his blood-red robe, he looked like a demon crawling out of a battlefield: "Aside from relying on your own strength to get through, anyone who wants to pass through the Path of Lost can do so by offering an equal amount of their soul as a sacrifice."

"Otherwise, do you think I would be so kind as to share the ruins I painstakingly discovered with you?"

Mad voices rang out in front of them, and before the words had even finished, a blood-red scimitar, accompanied by a blood-red wind, slashed straight down.

Raman barely managed to move his body, rolling to the side and narrowly avoiding the blow.

The curved blade slashed straight down into the ground, but strangely enough, it cut a piece of tofu, leaving a long dent in the ground and sending pebbles flying.

"Stop pretending. Do you think I don't know you're trying to trick me?"

Dressed in a red robe and wielding a blood-red scimitar, Myrdor chuckled coldly at the disheveled Raman lying on the ground: "You think I can't see through you? You were already planning to ambush me the moment we entered the ruins."

A soft cough sounded from the spot. Although the voice was old, it did not have the weakness that an old person should have.

Under Myrdor's gaze, Raman stood up from where he stood. The horrific wound on his chest looked terrifying, but it seemed to have no effect on him at all.

"I originally thought that we would not get to this point until we saw something worth taking action on."

Raman stood up nonchalantly, his face cold and indifferent. He looked at Meldor with cloudy eyes as if he were looking at a dead man: "I never thought that things would come to this just here."

"What do you know?"

Myrdor sneered, "Do you know where you are?"

"This is the tomb of the last pure-blooded king of the ancient elves. In terms of power, he was at least comparable to a level five wizard, far surpassing the current level of the wizarding world."

"Such a great being, even if only a little bit of his possessions is revealed, is worth risking one's life for a formal wizard. It's only a matter of time before they turn against us."

At this point, a sinister smile reappeared on his face: "Since we're bound to turn against each other sooner or later, I might as well let your soul pave the way for me!!"

The dazzling crimson blade flashed rapidly, emitting soft sounds in the surrounding space; just hearing it made one's head throb and feel uncomfortable.

A powerful surge of mental energy erupted, instantly suppressing the opponent's spirit. This caused Raman's expression to change drastically, revealing an expression of disbelief: "You've reached the Transformation Stage!!"

"Haha! It's too late to know now!"

Myrd's movements were fierce. Taking advantage of the moment when his opponent was suppressed, the scimitar in his hand emitted a blood-red glow and struck his opponent directly, making a loud noise.

After taking this blow, half of Raman's body exploded. A violent force entered his body through the bend of his body, almost tearing half of his body apart and completely rendering him unable to move.

The next moment, blood and flesh splattered everywhere, suddenly exploding on the spot, splashing all over Myrdor's body, like high-strength sulfuric acid, causing his skin to begin to corrode.

A wrinkled arm suddenly stretched out. Although it looked old, it was very powerful. It thrust forward and pierced through Mydor's chest completely. The blood-stained arm emerged from the other end.

Despite being suddenly struck, Myrdor acted as if nothing had happened, his face smeared with blood, swinging his blood-red scimitar like a madman.

bump!bump!bump!

A series of violent impacts rang out as a sharp, blood-red scimitar repeatedly slashed at Raman's body, hacking him down like chopping meat until he was reduced to a mangled mess, unrecognizable.

Even so, Raman is still not dead. There is still a bit of life force clinging to his remaining flesh and blood, and granulation tissue is constantly growing. He looks like he is about to heal.

"it's over!!"

Looking at the mass of flesh and blood before him, Myrdor's face broke into a maniacal laugh. He poured all his magical power into the scimitar in his right hand, causing it to emit a blood-red glow, looking both eerie and bloody. Then he slashed down directly.

boom!!!

A huge explosion resounded from the spot.

Before Meldor, struck by the crimson scimitar, the mangled mass of flesh exploded, splattering blood and gore everywhere, staining Meldor's face crimson.

"Hahahahaha!!"

As he felt the life of the flesh and blood before him completely vanish, Myrd laughed maniacally, and given his current dignified appearance, he couldn't help but resemble a madman.

Having personally taken the life of a formal wizard, the scimitar in his hand underwent a change; the blood that had been stained it slowly disappeared, as if it had been absorbed by the blood-red scimitar.

A blazing white light appeared on the spot, and a little bit of mist slowly rose up, condensing into a humanoid shape, which rushed directly to the huge stone tablet in front, causing the stone tablet to emit a faint golden glow.

Hiding in a corner, silently watching this scene, several wizard apprentices, including Andrew and Sisti, felt a chill in their hearts and dared not look directly at Meldor.

With Raman's death, the parasitic spell on them was lifted, but even so, they were still imprisoned here.

Myrd's mental energy was pressing down on them, not only restricting their movements to some extent, but also putting them under immense pressure. Any movement would be immediately detected by the other party.

This is an absolute difference in the level of life. For a formal wizard, as long as he still has spiritual power, suppressing an apprentice is an easy thing.

(End of this chapter)