"Enough!" The lead Demonic Cultivator's shout detonated like cannon fire, rage contorting every scar across his face. "Didn't you hear me? This ground belongs to Twin Ridge Stronghold. If you challenge us, you sign your own death warrant!"
He raised a demonic sword etched with wicked runes, the blade exhaling a violet mist that reeked of old blood.
The other Demonic Cultivators formed a tightening ring, each wearing the same hungry grin.
Spiked clubs swung menacingly, their cold points glinting, while demonic hammers hummed with oppressive weight.
"Run, brat, before we enjoy ourselves killing you!" one Demonic Cultivator hissed, eyes gleaming like wet copper.
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