Evolution Begins With A Big Tree

Chapter 1164, Slytherin’s Means

Translator:  Ashish

Translation Checker: Silvain

Despite their limitations, the might of the Shadow Clan far surpassed what the myriad races of the world could fathom.

Not only had the Shadow Lord stepped into Tier-6, even the Shadow King, the acting Patriarch, as well as three of the Nine Generals had ascended to the same terrifying realm.

Just the Shadow Clan’s strength known to the public was enough to stir unease in the hearts of even the most powerful of Forces.

And this was the strength created by the wealth earned by the First Tower of the World.

The First Tower of the World, spanning across the Western Sector, was famous for taking people’s money and eliminating people’s disasters.

The speed of amassing wealth of an assassination guild of the highest order outstripped the wildest imagination.

And the ‘wealth’ in question was not just limited to mere Spirit Stones, but also the lifeblood of cultivation itself: rare resources, ancient inheritances, and more.

It was upon this foundation that the Shadow Clan flourished, birthing powerhouses one after another.

Today, they had already produced six Overlords, though one had fallen in the hands of the Demon Court.

And this was the source of their boldness. The reason they dared roam freely across the Western Sector.

With a mocking sneer bar no restraint, one figure sneered, “Hmph, I’ll admit, the Supreme Lord of the Demon Court is formidable, but if he thinks he can truly shake us, he is sorely mistaken.”

“That’s right…” agreed a few other figures hidden in the shadows.

Apart from their fearsome strength, they had their own sanctuary—the Shadow Realm—a place which no one could find.

Thus, even if the Supreme Lord of the Demon Court was terrifying, so what?

If the Demon Court couldn’t find the Shadow Realm, retaliation was nothing but an empty talk.

Just then, as if recalling something, the figure seated upon the throne, the Shadow King, advised everyone in a soft measured tone, “Still, it’s best to remain vigilant. Tell all clansmen to keep their heads low for now.”

“Understood,” came the unanimous reply, with the audience bowing in respect.

In fact, compared to the Shadow Lord, they held even greater reverence for this Shadow King, whose form was obscured by a cloak as dark as ink.

Even someone as fearsome as Ghostshade General, Nightbat General, the three Overlords among the Nine Generals, had once been nearly defeated by him.

According to the Ghostshade General, the Shadow King had shown mercy then… or else, the outcome might’ve been absolute ruin.

From this, it was quite clear how fearsome the figure, cloaked in the darkness, was—he was a nightmare incarnate.

…

However, at that very moment, what no one in the Shadow Clan knew was that in some corner of the universe, a pair of blood-red eyes had already set eyes upon them.

“The…Shadow… Clan…” Slytherin muttered in a deep, chilling voice that could freeze one’s very Soul, his gaze fixed on a lone figure, a being clad in jet-black, its face utterly concealed, like the ninjas of Earth.

Dark vapors drifted around him, like sentient fog. His entire body gave the feeling of an illusion.

If one put their hands on the figure, it would pass right through his body, while the black wisps around him parting like water.

This was a Tier-4 Shadowkin. He was one of the few captured alive by the Demon Court.

The Shadow Clan was an extremely bizarre race, that was a bit like Elementals. They were able to merge with shadows, and were immune to most forms of attack. Furthermore, they could slip through the others’ shadows.

And this Shadowkin had only been captured thanks to a specialist within the Demon Court—a master of seals, who had imprisoned him within a scroll using some Sealing Technique.

And now, Slytherin had rushed here, to inquire about some things from this Shadowkin.

“Sir…” Gulping hard, a Demon Court Expert looked up toward the distant sky, at the extremely sinister figure hidden among the dark veil of roiling clouds, and nervously reported, “We… We’ve tried everything. All our methods, even Soul-Searching Techniques. Nothing’s worked. He won’t open his mount.”

Defeat laced the guard’s voice. There were 108 torture techniques in the Demon Court, and even those had failed to loosen this prisoner’s lips.

They were dealing with something beyond reason.

“Very well…” Slytherin gave a slight nod in response.

But within the depths of his many cold, glimmering eyes, an amused look began to stir.

Then, he suddenly swept his colossal tail, as a tempest of power surged forth.

“Stand down,” came the low, commanding growl.

“Yes, Sir.”

The voices answered in unison, but none among the Demon Court’s elites could hide the tremor in their hearts. One after another, they backed away, their eyes locked in awe and dread upon the monstrous being that loomed above—his form vast enough to stir half the Heavens.

Terrifying, unspeakably so.

With just a sweep of his tail, the skies above fractured like a shattered mirror.

Yet that was not what truly struck fear into their Souls.

It was his crimson eyes, glowing red like red-hot magma. Clearly, they were not looking at them, and yet, their mere presence was enough to send a chill crawling through every bone and marrow.

…

As the Demon Court’s experts withdrew, Slytherin slowly turned its gaze once more toward the Shadowkin still bound in seals, not far ahead.

“Do you know,” Slytherin’s voice, deep and guttural, thunderous across the sky, “what true fear is?”

At that moment, dark clouds once again swallowed the Heavens whole, as though some ancient terror had descended upon the world.

And then—

*Booooom…* One of Slytherin’s draconic heads moved, its blood-red eyes lit up, glowing with malevolent light, like twin lanterns burning in the abyss.

At the same time, two beams of light shot out, shooting straight toward the eyes of the Shadowkin.

*Ahhhh!” A piercing shriek tore through the sky, filled with such harrowing despair, and inexplicable fear.

There was no word to describe that scream, it was the sound of a Soul unraveling of someone beholding a nightmare that should never be seen.

And if one were to look closely, they would see the once-fierce Shadowkin trembling uncontrollably, curled up like a frightened child, lost in a waking nightmare.

Such fear.

Such unimaginable, paralyzing fear.

Not just his body, his very Soul quaked with it.

Had this continued, without so much as a blade being drawn, the man would have perished. Not from poison, not from a blow, from fright alone.

He would be scared to death.

It sounded absurd. Almost comical. But nothing could be more terrifying.

Simply because the monstrous being before him wielded a power born from the roots of the Fear itself.

It could peer into one’s deepest, most primal terrors. Magnify them until they consumed the mind, body, and spirit.

“Mmm… delicious…” Slytherin licked its lips, as though savoring the last note of a fine wine, eyes glinting with a twisted nostalgia.

To this monster, the fear of Mortals was a delicacy.

And when a proud and unyielding creature, who bowed neither to Heaven or Gods, succumbed to terror? That fear was ambrosia.

[This is enough! Any more, and the little shadow-dweller will truly die from fright.]

With a faint sigh, Slytherin finally withdrew his gaze. At the same time, the seal around the captive began to unravel.

“Let’s go.” Chuckled Slytherin, and then, with a mighty sweep of his tail, the billowing black clouds lifted up the elites of the Demon Court, as he turned and left.

“My Lord… what about that Shadowkin?” A Demon Court eliter asked, puzzled.

“Oh, him?…Forget him…” Slytherin replied, casually.

However, in the depths of Slytherin’s heart, a dark, sinister smile unfurled.

“Run, little one, run… Please, just don’t disappoint me. I’m counting on you… to lead me straight to the Shadow Realm.”