Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 159 - 163: The Beauty’s Head

Chapter 163: The Beauty’s Head

At Aizen’s level of Sorcery cultivation, his spiritual power was extraordinarily sharp, allowing him to sense and interpret the auras of others.

This rudimentary form of Aura Perception enabled him to glean insights about his surroundings.

Those in positions of power often exuded an aura of unassailable authority. The aura of merchants and commoners carried traits of cunning and pragmatism.

As for the bandits of the Nine Great Cloud-Linked Strongholds, each bore an aura steeped in bloodshed. Living as a group of marauders in the mountains, their essence was naturally wild and savage.

Aizen grabbed his bundle and prepared to dive into the underground river to evade the approaching group. Suddenly, he stopped, frowning deeply as a hint of killing intent flashed in his eyes.

A forceful, fiery aura locked onto him from afar. It was fierce, condensed, and carried a ruthless, predatory essence.

This aura erupted suddenly, akin to a wolf springing forth from a flock of sheep and fixing its deadly gaze on its prey.

"A Innate Magus Stage expert... so it’s Iron-Shattering Hand Lother..."

Though Aizen frowned, the corners of his lips curled into a faint smile. Lother must have concealed his presence earlier to avoid alarming him. Now, the sudden explosion of aura could mean only one thing—the man had arrived.

And not alone.

Accompanying Lother were over a dozen bandits. Though their strength varied, they all carried a menacing, bloodthirsty energy.

Even if Aizen jumped into the river now, there was no escaping a Innate Magus Stage expert’s pursuit. Underwater, Lother’s strength would undoubtedly surpass his own.

Lother was a towering one-eyed man, wearing a black eye patch. His remaining eye was sharp and sinister, like the predatory gaze of a venomous hawk.

In his hand, he held the severed head of a woman.

Aizen recognized it instantly. It was Christa.

Her head was eerily intact, as if it had been neatly severed in one swift stroke.

Her expression was oddly joyful, as though caught in a moment of delight.

How could someone face death with such happiness?

Even if such a person existed, Christa would not be one of them.

The blade that killed her had to have been incredibly fast, cutting her head off before her expression could even change.

Aizen’s eyes shifted to the wielder of the blade: a tall, thin man wearing a leather coat. His long fingers gripped a thin, unsheathed blade, and his sharp gaze betrayed his deadly precision.

"You must have known this woman," Lother said, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "You probably didn’t expect her to betray you. Her head is yours. Hand over the Three-Life Stone, and I’ll spare your life."

Lother’s grin widened as he lifted Christa’s head. His lips, stained with yellowed teeth, pressed mockingly against her lips before he flung her head toward Aizen.

Her long black hair swirled in the air like whips, and the head hurtled toward Aizen with a piercing whoosh, slicing through the air with alarming speed.

"Swish!"

In an instant, Aizen moved.

He swept his sleeve forward, the fabric fluttering like a priest’s dust brush, sweeping away impurities.

"Snap!"

The sleeve collided with Christa’s flying hair.

The impact scattered the strands midair, and Aizen’s sleeve disintegrated into fragments from the sheer force of the collision.

The unleashed energy rippled outward, causing the air to tremble violently.

Lother’s expression darkened slightly.

Christa’s hair, which had been infused with a sharp, cutting force, was abruptly severed mid-flight by Aizen’s sleeve.

The two men stood locked in a tense silence, their killing intent palpable. Aizen’s calm exterior belied the storm brewing within. Lother, on the other hand, seemed both impressed and wary, realizing this confrontation might not be as simple as he had expected.

Aizen’s sleeve moved like a sharp blade, cutting cleanly through the metaphorical tangle of troubles.

With a motion as agile as a monkey catching the moon, Aizen reached out and caught Christa’s severed head. A spiraling force embedded in the head tried to burrow into his hand, but he deftly neutralized it with a smooth motion of his palm—a Cloud Hand—dissipating the force with ease.

"Impressive," Lother said, his earlier disdain fading. His eyes narrowed as he grinned. "You’re not Innate Magus Stage yet, but you’re close. You must not be an unknown figure. State your name."

Aizen glanced at the head in his hand. Blood dripped steadily from his grasp.

This woman, who had been at his side only moments ago, was now dead, her life brutally ended by these bandits.

"Did you think betraying me would earn you more?" he murmured, emotionlessly shaking his head as he stared at Christa’s lifeless face.

"Ha! Only an idiot talks to a corpse!" The tall, thin bandit wielding the blade laughed loudly. But his laughter was cut short as Aizen abruptly hurled Christa’s head toward him.

The blade-wielding bandit’s eyes gleamed with murderous intent as he unsheathed his blade and slashed at the flying head.

"Shhrrk!"

As the blade descended, Aizen’s figure flashed like a ghost, appearing in front of the thin bandit in an instant. His five crimson fingers clawed straight for the man’s heart.

"Bold move!" Lother roared, sensing the danger and rushing to intervene.

"Snap!"

Christa’s head was cleaved in half by the thin bandit’s strike, the pieces falling to the ground. But at the same moment, Aizen’s hand, sharp as a blade, pierced into the man’s chest.

"Ahhh!" The bandit screamed, but it was too late.

A drawn blade is most dangerous before it strikes. Once its trajectory is predictable, its threat diminishes significantly. Aizen gripped the man’s heart and crushed it with a swift motion, leaving no chance of survival.

However, at that very moment, Lother’s metallic palm descended toward Aizen’s head.

The hand emitted a metallic sheen, not from any gloves but from Lother’s mastery of the Iron-Shattering Hand technique, which he had honed to an extraordinary level.

The surrounding air grew searingly hot, as though steel had rubbed against the atmosphere, creating an illusion of frictional heat.

For Aizen, facing a Innate Magus Stage opponent was akin to encountering a cataclysmic threat. He immediately retreated, his movements swift and precise. But Lother bellowed, his voice resonating through the cavern.

"Stop! Escape!"

The shout reverberated terrifyingly, unleashing a shockwave of sonic energy that rippled toward Aizen.

The bandits around Lother, unprepared for the blast, screamed in agony, clutching their ears and stumbling in disarray.

Aizen bore the full brunt of the sonic attack. Even though he had infused his internal energy into his ears the moment he sensed the danger, his mind buzzed, and his thoughts scattered in chaos.

The underground river itself seemed to tremble under the intense sound waves, with water bursting upward in sprays.

Lother’s palm loomed like a massive shadow, bearing down on Aizen with devastating force.

"Whoosh!"

The violent energy radiating from the palm struck out ahead, its sheer force capable of damaging its target from a distance.

The very air around them seemed to collapse inward under the pressure.

Aizen’s cold eyes narrowed, a flicker of madness flashing within. With a low growl, he braced himself, planting his feet firmly into the ground. His fists clenched, and he unleashed a thunderous double punch—Bull’s Horns Splitting the Heavens.

"Boom! Boom!"

The ground beneath Aizen’s feet cracked open from the force. His feet sank into the earth as his fists delivered an earth-shattering blow.

The clash of energy sent shockwaves rippling outward, and the air itself seemed to roar with the sound of thunder.

Lother’s overwhelming palm strike shattered under Aizen’s punches.

However, the chilling metallic glow of the Iron-Shattering Hand did not falter, crashing directly into Aizen’s fists.