"The Dark Lord has risen again. Surely, this boy no longer holds any value to you," Dong Zhen spoke tactfully, her words cloaked in subtle diplomacy. "Why not grant us this favor and hand him over? In return, we, the Eastern wizarding factions, guarantee that we will not interfere in your conflict with the Order of the Phoenix." She hoped to use the influence of the Eastern wizards to avoid tonight's battle.
"Heh," Voldemort let out a cold laugh, a cruel smile curling at the corners of his lips, his scarlet eyes glinting with amusement.
"You insignificant creatures think you are worthy of negotiating with my master?" a Death Eater in a hooded cloak sneered. "Master, allow me to teach these so-called Eastern guests a lesson, so they understand their current situation."
Voldemort nodded slightly, his tone icy but controlled. "Macnair, mind your manners. We must show tolerance and magnanimity to our guests."
Elated at being singled out by Voldemort, Macnair strode forward boldly, determined to showcase his prowess. He raised his wand and aimed it at Yang Fan. "Stupefy!" A stunning spell shot through the air.
A flash of red light gleamed as Han Yi's sword slightly unsheathed, the faint, cold glimmer causing everyone to gape. In the blink of an eye, the spell in the air was precisely sliced into harmless fragments.
Voldemort's eyes glimmered with intrigue. While such a spell seemed trivial to him, the decisiveness and efficiency with which it had been neutralized suggested that these five individuals possessed a degree of skill.
Sensing the uneasy atmosphere among the other Death Eaters, Macnair grew impatient. He pointed his wand skyward. "Avada Kedavra!" "Crucio!" "Reducto!" "Petrificus Totalus!" A volley of curses streaked toward the five figures in the sky, their colorful flashes illuminating the dark night.
Bei Chenke raised an arm, and a glowing green longbow materialized from the void. His ears elongated to points, his skin turned pale, and his eyes sharpened with focus. He loosed an arrow toward the sky, and in the next instant, countless ethereal green arrows rained down like a meteor shower, forming a barrier that absorbed every incoming curse.
It was the Guardian Arrow Rain, a skill granted by his elven bloodline.
Bei Chenke's pale eyes gleamed crimson as he gazed at Macnair below. Electricity crackled around his bow, and a long arrow enveloped in pure blue lightning formed on the string. Muscles rippled under the strain as he drew the bow to its full extent. With a release, the electrified arrow shot forth with terrifying speed.
Macnair's pupils contracted. "Protego!" "Impervius!" He hastily cast defensive spells, but the lightning arrow tore through the air, its thunderous roar shaking the heavens. The arrow shattered Macnair's barriers effortlessly, its dual effects of piercing magic and armor rendering his defenses futile. Terror flashed across Macnair's face—he had underestimated the strength of these so-called Eastern wizards.
Voldemort's expression darkened as anger flickered in his crimson eyes. Just as he was about to intervene, the blindfolded youth standing beside him raised a finger, pointing it toward the lightning arrow. In an instant, the thunderous roar fell eerily silent, and the arrow disintegrated just inches from Macnair's face.
From his elevated position, Yang Fan's expression turned grim as he exchanged glances with the three figures beside Voldemort. His tone dropped. "It seems the Dark Lord has no intention of negotiating. Very well, as this is your day of rebirth, we Eastern wizards will present you with a grand gift. Let's see if you can survive to enjoy it."
Raising his hand, he launched three pitch-black cone-shaped objects into the sky. The five figures in the air slowly faded from sight.
Voldemort felt a sudden and inexplicable sense of danger, as though something uncontrollable was about to occur.
The three black cones in the sky began to trail fiery tails. Standing beside Voldemort, the blindfolded youth smirked with a trace of disdain.
Above the Riddle graveyard, countless runes, symbols, and glyphs began to appear, seemingly materializing from thin air. These radiant inscriptions wove together, forming colossal constellations that shimmered in the night sky.
The star charts resembled galaxies coming to life. Bright blue stars glowed brilliantly among them, pulsing in rhythmic harmony.
Just as the celestial spectacle fully unfolded, the three dark objects exploded without warning.
No one could describe the brilliance of that moment. It was as though dozens of suns had risen simultaneously, flooding the world with their searing radiance.
Light. Endless light brighter than anything imaginable. It pierced through the heavens and earth, obliterating shadows and consuming every inch of space. For a moment, it seemed as though the entire world had dissolved into an ocean of luminosity.
Amid this spectacle, the graveyard's sky shimmered with eerie blue-green hues as the core of the nuclear blasts radiated blinding, absolute brightness. The surrounding air twisted with intense heat, casting an ominous golden glow across the land.
The explosion transformed into a roaring tidal wave of energy, shaking space itself. Yet amidst this chaos, the star charts above the graveyard remained undiminished, their constellations pulsing vibrantly, resonating with the waves of destruction.
Below the celestial spectacle, Voldemort and his followers remained unharmed, protected within the star charts' confines. Watching the magnificent explosions unfold, they seemed to inhabit an entirely different reality.
Freya, standing among Voldemort's party, sneered faintly. "The Eastern team is naive beyond measure. Such crude, unrefined methods are utterly futile against a man who stands closest to the divine—a golden saint of Virgo bloodline. Their struggle is as pitiful as ants trying to move a mountain."
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