The moment Zorath and his men disappeared into the dense rainforest, the air shimmered, and two figures materialized from thin air.
It wasn't magic—no, it was something beyond that. A power so refined that even the most skilled cultivators wouldn't have noticed their presence.
Raithar stood tall, his shimmering pink skin oddly muted in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. His long brown hair draped over his shoulders, and his glowing grey eyes flickered with quiet amusement.
Beside him, his companion remained still, watching the retreating group with a neutral expression.
"My lord," the man spoke, his voice composed yet curious. "I don't think they realize this was the work of an Unnamed Hunter."
"Of course they don't." Raithar scoffed as he stepped forward, his gaze dropping to the ground where Tharion had fought for his life. "The lower beings never know anything."
With a flick of his wrist, the illusion masking the scene vanished.
