The cold morning wind swept over the courtyard of the Cloud-Mist Pavilion, rustling the leaves of the glowing bamboo trees. The ground was littered with the groaning, broken forms of the twelve elite 10th-Class Grand Disciple wizards from the Vance clan. Their staves were shattered, and their cultivation pools were completely destroyed by the devastating explosion of the Homing Shadow Talismans.
Tony Clark stood calmly at the top of the stone steps, his standard lazy posture perfectly restored. Beside him, the massive Crimson Shadow Griffin let out a deep, satisfied purr, its dark-purple galaxy eyes locked onto the solitary figure standing at the center of the courtyard.
