They all call me Great Master-Chapter 771 - 768: Burning II

The extreme speed of Blaze's progression attracted the attention of three Barons and four Lords within Ainhars Territory. The accompanying Hidden Guards and trusted aides were on high alert as if facing a formidable enemy.

"Relax.

It's not aimed at us,"

the Marquess of Ainhars said with a smile.

Viscount Windsor frowned slightly.

"Count Bernaken?"

The Viscount was somewhat uncertain.

It was not just that Count Bernaken at this time was exceedingly powerful, to an excessive degree, but also that his speed was so fast it was unbelievable.

"That's the guy.

Don't question it.

It's just part of the legacy of a Demon Hunter—belonging to the part about Magic Potions.

Very useful.

But also very deadly,"

the Marquis replied.

For the Marquis, this scene was something he had anticipated long ago.

What other choice did that guy have except to sacrifice himself?

'Hmph, pathetic creature!

The fated death of a Demon Hunter.

I would not meet such an end.'

The conviction of the Marquis heart grew stronger as he turned to his trusted aides and guards, declaring loudly—

"You all must reach the designated location at top speed.

I and these distinguished guests will go ahead."

As he spoke, the Silver Sword from the twin swords at his waist flew out directly.

The Marquis jumped onto his Sword, flicked his wrist, and ropes fell into the hands of his subordinates—the three Barons and four Lords.

As for Viscount Windsor?

The Marquis believed that he would be able to keep up.

In fact, that was indeed the case.

As the Marquis led his subordinates in pursuit of the lone figure within the Blaze at high speed, Viscount Windsor's figure began to distort.

That distortion was like the air in high heat.

But more intense.

And after each distortion, Viscount Windsor left behind an afterimage where he stood.

The afterimage maintained Viscount Windsor's forward posture, yet with a blank expression.

As the Viscount advanced with each distortion, he left behind a trail of afterimages, their 'color' fading more and more, until the vibrant red of his gown was about to completely lose its hue and turn black and white; only then did the first afterimage, as though attracted by some unseen force, began to move at extreme speed, catching up with the second afterimage left behind and merging into one.

Suddenly, the face's color returned somewhat to freshness.

Then came the third, the fourth, the fifth.

By the time nine afterimages had fused into one, Viscount Windsor distorted forward again.

This scene was silently observed by the Marquess of Ainhars.

'The Secret Technique of Theofact Psychic Cult!

But, infused with some of the Bloodline Clan's Secret Techniques!'

Different from the previous uncertainty.

Now, the Marquess confirmed Viscount Windsor's Secret Technique.

Immediately, the Marquis began to contemplate how to kill the other faster if a battle were to ensue.

Allies?

There are no eternal allies.

Only eternal interests.

However, that would be after he completed his plan.

Now?

He was waiting for the good news from that fool of a Demon Hunter.

He believed that the other would bring him good news.

Of course, it definitely wouldn't be the slaying of 'Blood Drinker'.

'Blood Drinker's flaws have always been in his hands.'

...

A wild boar weighing over 600 pounds was charging and crashing through the dense forest.

For this wild boar, there was no creature within the dense forest that could threaten it at this moment.

Its underdeveloped brain couldn't comprehend why, in just one night, it had grown to this size, but after it had killed the tigers and bears it used to avoid, it kept heading deeper into the dense forest.

It didn't know why it was going there.

It just instinctively felt that it needed to be there.

It seemed as if something was waiting for it.

More importantly, it was obviously exhausted, yet it still moved forward.

It wanted to rest.

But its body didn't obey.

It ran from night until dawn.

From dawn back to night.

The consciousness of this wild boar had completely dissipated.

What remained was just instinct, following the commands of the 'Blood Drinker'.

And the wear on its joints, which was beyond normal, was being replenished by the 'Blood Drinker' using the rest of the boar's flesh and blood.

If there had been enough time, it could have turned this exceptionally talented wild boar into an arcane creature, the most suitable mount for it.

But unfortunately, time was too pressing.

An unexpected exposure forced it to give up on the boar.

'Damn bastard!'

At this moment, the 'Blood Drinker' was still cursing the 'Lady of Sorrow'.

If not for her 'blabbering', how could it, perfectly concealed, be exposed?

Moreover, the 'Blood Drinker' suspected that she must have done something outrageous, deliberately exposing it to attract the attention of the demon hunters in Ainhars Territory.

As for the strength of that group of demon hunters within Ainhars Territory, the 'Blood Drinker' was well aware.

After all, it was once one of them.

The 'Blood Drinker' held a certain nostalgia for that past.

Not just because it had killed its so-called 'Bloodkin', but also because, in that time, it had found the true meaning of 'power.'

A power that belonged solely to it, suited for it.

What about the by-products of this past?

It cared about them a lot.

Because...

It hated!

It had killed its so-called husband, but its so-called son nearly killed it, forcing it to become what it is now.

Even though its current situation exposed it to a deeper level of power.

That didn't lessen its hatred at all.

It had long decided that when it had fully recovered, it would begin by killing its offspring to celebrate.

However, that was a previous decision.

Now, there was no need, of course.

It had already sensed that its offspring were approaching.

That feeling of bloodline connection was disgustingly clear.

But what was even clearer was—

The presence of the demon hunter!

Blazing!

Fierce!

The 'Blood Drinker' could not possibly misperceive it, it was a demon hunter.

A demon hunter who had truly embarked on the 'Demon Hunter's Path'.

However, unlike the demon hunters it remembered, this demon hunter's speed...

How could it be so fast?

The 'Blood Drinker' hesitated for a moment when this question surfaced in its mind.

And in that moment of hesitation, a blaze appeared behind the 'Blood Drinker'.

The next instant—

The blaze pierced straight through.

It went right through the body of the wild boar.

The huge boar, split in two, was instantly cooked by the flames, then shattered with the intense heat.

But the true body of the 'Blood Drinker', hidden within the belly of the boar—a statue imbued with a sense of age, half the height of a person, appearing to stand yet half-crouch—was fiercely stabbed by the tip of a silver sword engulfed in flames, right at its heart.

Ding!