Severin's figure then turned into a streak of light as he vanished from where he was. Shortly after Severin's part left, a contingent clad in the Burkes attire showed up out of blue on the battleground where remnants of the spatial rifts lingered. The group numbered more than ten individuals, each exuding an aura as forceful as the towering mountains, with nearly all being level three or level four paragons.
Particularly noteworthy was the young man leading them. The atmosphere surrounding him rivaled the expanse of a sea of clouds. The aura of his perfect-stage level five paragon attainment obliterated the residual elements in the surrounding battlefield.
Clad in a resplendent black robe with golden silk-like threads forming cloud-like patterns, he donned a purplish-gold boots and possessed a rather dashing handsomeness. Those who laid eyes upon him would feel that his countenance resembled that of royalty. At that moment, however, he had a gloomy and downcast expression.
When his people arrived, their gaze fell upon Linden and the two men who now lay as half-corpses. The young leader wore a pallid expression, and his dejection bordered on the verge of tears.
"Did the perpetrator flee?" Gerry's tone was as icy as the cold winds sweeping through an ancient ice field. It seemed to be sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone like a steel blade. The numerous disciples from the Burkes were simmering with indignation upon witnessing the two lifeless bodies in the field.
"Who did this?"
"Who would dare to kill one of our disciples?"
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