CHAPTER 1251 SUPREME GOD SHEFFIELD'S TOMB

A wave of dizziness swept over Darren as the world around him began to change.

"Puff!"

As soon as he landed on the ground, Darren felt a dull pain in his chest. A brief moment later, he spat

out a mouthful of blood.

"Master, this place..."

The ground in front of Darren was covered in blood mist, and several fierce howls could be heard one

after another. Waves of killing intent hit his soul, causing injuries that had led him to spit out blood.

"Stay here for a month. If you survive, you can become my disciple," Lord Starry Sword instructed.

"But master, I'm in the soul state now. I can only exist like this for a limited amount of time." Darren

remembered Murphy's warning that they could only stay here for four hours. He calculated how much

time had passed and knew he was about to reach the limit.

"No more excuses. Just do as I say."

"Okay."

Although Darren was doubtful, since Lord Starry Sword persisted, he figured time wasn't an issue. He

speculated that the time flow rate here might be different from that in the outside world.

With a nod of understanding, Darren walked forward.

After he crossed a few dozen feet, the space in front of him rippled, as if he had passed through an

invisible barrier.

Almost immediately, his body quivered violently. Such agony coursed through him that he fell to the

ground.

"Soul torture."

Darren's features twisted as he felt unbearable pain coming from his soul.

He looked back with great difficulty at the place where he had landed a short while ago, only to find that

the blood mist had thickened, and Lord Starry Sword had disappeared.

"Howl!"

"Roar!"

Suddenly, he heard several guttural sounds coming from the blood mist around, and a fresh wave of

pain coursed through his soul.

He clutched his head and tried to activate the God Character in his brain to counteract the pain.

However, to his surprise, this time, he couldn't trigger the omnipotent God Character.

The unbearable pain overwhelmed Darren, and he lacked the strength to rise from the ground. He had

no choice but to endure the suffering in silence.

After what seemed a long time, he felt something flash in front of him.

A split second later, rays of pale green light rose from the ground. The green light encircled Darren, and

murmuring sounds and chants poured into his ears. Soon, a peculiar feeling replaced the agony from

the soul torture.

Gradually, Darren became a little sober as the pain in his soul receded.

He heaved a sigh of relief and glanced around. His eyes widened with astonishment when he saw

many dry faces with sunken eyes. Their skin was like bark, and their fingers were like branches.

When Darren noticed their black robes, he was stunned.

"Witchers..."

Darren realized who they were.

"Defiant Master, do you know where you are?"

The lips of the witcher closest to Darren moved as he asked. His gravelly and dry voice sounded

somewhat harsh.

"No, I don't."

"Who sent you here?" the witcher asked.

"Lord Starry Sword."

Hearing Darren's answer, the witcher raised his head. His green eyes gleamed under his black hat.

The witchers around Darren remained silent. It seemed as though they were discussing something

secretly through their spiritual sense.

"We are sorry, but you can't stay in a supreme god's tomb,"

the witcher muttered. After their deliberation, the witchers agreed that they had to expel Darren.

"Wait!" Darren exclaimed when he sensed a strange force exerted on him. He raised his hand and

asked, "May I ask, which supreme god is buried in this tomb?"

"Sheffield."

Darren was stunned. He didn't expect to find himself in the tomb of Supreme God Sheffield. Just a few

days ago, Master Adolf, who was an expert in making divine patterns, had spoken about this tomb.

"Sir, my master instructed me to stay here for a month. Only after I survive can I become his disciple.

Please don't banish me," Darren explained immediately.

"No, you can't stay here,"

the witcher replied with a vigorous shake of his head.

"Why?" Darren was puzzled. How could it be that the witchers didn't submit after hearing Lord Starry

Sword's name? Why would they be so determined to drive him away?

"No Defiant Master can exist here, that's all!"

This explanation confused Darren further.

"That's strange. If I can't stay, why did my master bring me here?" Darren murmured to himself.

The witcher standing in front of Darren shook his head slowly. After a while, he said, "If you don't

survive, you can't become his disciple."

Darren frowned and tilted his head as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Figure it out yourself. No explanation," the witcher said coldly.

Darren thought for a while. He felt a chill in his heart when he understood what the witcher meant.

"Ha-ha!" Darren gave a wry smile and continued, "He wants me to die."

He felt hurt at the thought.

His master had tricked him. Lord Starry Sword had left him here to die so that he didn't have to accept

Darren as his disciple.

"Then, why did you save me?" Darren asked with a bitter expression on his face.

"You talk too much." As he spoke, all the witchers lowered their heads. Their black hats covered their

faces, and Darren couldn't see what they were doing. Soon, soft murmuring and chanting reached

Darren's ears again.

The air began to ripple, and an irresistible force began to pull Darren.

"Roar!"

A ferocious voice seemed to come from the depths of the sky.

A strong wave of energy rushed toward Darren with overwhelming momentum.

Bang! Bang! Bang...

The witchers surrounding him were struck by the wave of energy and instantly turned into black grains

of sand.

The remaining witchers scattered after being hit by the energy wave. The teleportation spell couldn't be

completed, and Darren was still in the tomb. The witchers had failed to expel him before the Supreme

God became aware of his presence.

"Report to the Blood Witcher Ancestor quickly!"

the witchers lying on the ground screamed in horror.

Darren, who stood in the middle of this destruction, was not affected by the energy wave. Surprisingly

enough, after the witchers fell, the soul torture didn't return either.

Darren raised his head and looked in the distance. Through his god's sense, he perceived that a figure owns this.

was walking toward them.

The figure was dressed in a blood-red armor and wore a dark gold mask. He carried a double-edged

bloody sword in his left hand.

Who was this figure? Why did he have such a powerful aura? How could he instill such terror in all the

witchers? Darren was so curious that he wasn't overwhelmed by paralyzing fear, like the witchers.

"Why are you still standing there? Leave!"

an anxious witcher shouted at Darren.

"Where can I go?"

he replied with a shrug. Darren could feel that the person was far more powerful than him and that his

speed was a hundred times faster than his. If the person wanted to chase him, he couldn't escape

anyway.

"Alas,"

the witcher sighed, and everyone fell silent.

No words were needed as they knew what had to be done. They struggled to sit up. With withered

hands clasped together, they began to chant.

Wisps of green light flew out from the witchers and drifted toward Darren. The light wrapped around

him like a silk cocoon, forming a protective shield.

The figure finally neared.

"Supreme God, please calm down. Please return to your restful state,"

the witchers implored as they knelt in unison.

"Roar! Roar! Roar!"

Ruthless and cold howls pierced the air, and the remaining witchers were reduced to ash.

A storm formed and clashed with the green protective cover around Darren. He was sent flying into the

air like a shooting star. The intensity was so dreadful that he didn't even slow down after covering

dozens of kilometers.

Darren was shocked. This person's strength was beyond his imagination.

He was even more astounded when he heard the witchers address the figure as "Supreme God." Was

he Supreme God Sheffield?