True Solution of the Sword Dao
Chapter 406 - 376 Epilogue 1

Chapter 406: 376 Epilogue 1

Lophista, mad with rage, plunged from the sky toward the ground. The white flames that engulfed his body sketched a white streak of light in the air as his speed increased, thoroughly illuminating the darkened region. Within the pulsating flames, waves of energy, pure and powerful, continuously radiated outward. It was the Holy Power that the Holy See regarded as its emblem.

All the white flames that enveloped Lophista’s body originated from the Holy Artifact in his hand—Rofield’s burning. With a whooshing sound, the immense white greatsword slashed fiercely at what lay directly ahead. He appeared like a meteor falling from the heavens.

Standing side by side atop the ruins were Rogar and the Lord of Night, both silently watching his furious roar. Their expressions were calm and composed.

Rogar took a slow step forward.

"It should be me. Rofield’s burning, the renowned Sword of Purification, embodies the soul and entire strength of Rofield, the most powerful Golden Knight in the history of the Holy See. I want to see if it truly lives up to the legends!"

His white beard drifted gently to the left in the breeze, once tightly bundled together but now slightly disheveled.

As the white meteor in the sky rapidly approached...

Rogar extended his hands, his muscular arms, belying his old age, met in front of his chest, fingertips touching.

Clap!

His hands slapped together firmly. The crisp sound was not even masked by the whooshing noise of the wind above.

Clouds of black smoke immediately began to escape from his body, like the lingering smog of a fire not yet fully extinguished. Streams of smoke floated and converged upward incessantly.

From his eyes, mouth, nose, ears, the seams in his clothes, and between his hands, copious amounts of black smoke rapidly spread out, gathering into a small black vortex above his head.

An extraordinarily sinister aura spread instantly.

Nearly everyone present could feel an icy, malevolent presence continuously emanating from Rogar.

There, amidst the ruins, the bearded old man seemed to stand surrounded by countless evils, everything around him nearly disappearing into the pervasive black mists.

The vortex above his head turned slowly, rapidly growing from the size of a human head to over ten meters in diameter, like a massive black curtain hovering above him, completely obscuring his figure.

In the distance, on the rooftop,

The leader of the figures clad in black robes watched the black vortex in the center with a grave expression.

"Such a sinister presence..." he said in a deep voice. "It is indeed befitting of an A-class warrior, the two-headed serpent."

"My Lord, everything is ready. We can leave at any moment," whispered another figure in a black robe behind him.

In his hands, he held a small elliptical crystal ball.

The originally transparent crystal ball was now slowly pulsating with an unpredictable red light, brightening and dimming like a heartbeat. The red light radiated directly from the center of the crystal ball, casting a faint and hazy beauty.

"No need to rush. Let’s watch a bit longer. If Lophista can just...." The leader in the black robe kept his eyes firmly on the scene below without finishing his sentence.

Boom!!

The white light and the black vortex clashed fiercely against each other.

Lophista roared in rage but without making any sound, as if in a silent pantomime play. His entire being, with the greatsword as its point, pierced into the center of the black vortex. Countless white flames spread and burned along the surface of the black vortex.

From afar, it looked as though a white vortex of flames was in constant opposition to a black one.

In mid-air, the two colossal vortexes, like two discs, nearly split the entire space above the ruins in two—the realm of white flames above, the domain of black smoke below.

The black and white discs frantically negated a vast amount of energy. Countless interspersed specks of black and white scattered into the surrounding air, falling slowly like sparks.

The Lord of Night’s expression shifted slightly, and in a flash, he withdrew from Rogar’s range of black mist, instantly appearing on an empty patch of ground that was previously his location.

But immediately after, a figure in black and red armor closely followed, appearing on the ground.

It was Grisnan, who had accompanied Lophista earlier. The man dressed in black armor with red trim still looked a bit disheveled and pale as if he hadn’t fully recovered from the recent battle.

However, standing opposite, the blood-colored hand shield on his left arm emanated tremendous and pure waves of strength.

The hand shield was a perfect triangle, its three tips adorned with three blood-red jewels. The jewels, undiminished by the ongoing opposition of white light and black smoke, emitted a faint crimson glow, appearing as three blood-red eyes. With every movement of the arm, they drew faint trails of blood-red lines in the air.

In the center of the shield, among countless twisted vine-like patterns, a pair of fierce, blood-red eyes also radiated a red light, seemingly made of the same material as the three jewels.

Grisnan’s originally pale and disheveled face seemed to calm down under the red light of the hand shield.

"It is my honor, Grisnan, to be able to seek counsel from the ruler of Dark Night Castle, Lord of Night," the knight said with a calm smile, as if no injury had ever touched him, full of confidence.

The two were but a mere ten meters apart, with uneven heaps of concrete and stone littered on the ground between them—a distance that could be easily traversed instantly by either party.

For these opposing forces, this distance was already extremely perilous.