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Leon, now protected by his mana barrier, stood tall amidst the chaos, his mind calm and his body glowing faintly with the blue aura of mana. He could see the confusion and fear spreading among the cultivators around him as they continued to fall one by one. Time was running out for them. Leon knew that, but instead of panicking, he remained focused.

He had no sympathy for the others, but he needed them for now. If the group weakened too much, his own plans could be in jeopardy.

Rynar\'s eyes locked on Leon, his surprise evident. The faint glow of mana around Leon\'s body and the relaxed expression on his face made it clear that he was no longer affected by the Verdant Sprites\' draining attacks. Rynar frowned deeply, suspicion creeping into his thoughts. How was this lone cultivator able to resist something even he couldn\'t counter?

Meanwhile, the rest of the group wasn\'t faring well. Panic had set in. They were all seasoned fighters, mercenaries who had faced death before. They knew the risks, understood that danger was part of the job. But this—dying at the hands of small, glowing creatures that looked like harmless green fairies—was beyond what any of them had imagined.

Suddenly, a scream cut through the din, high-pitched and filled with terror. Heads whipped around to find a beautiful woman, her face pale with fear, pointing shakily at a body lying on the ground next to her.

"What… what is happening?!" she stammered, her voice trembling.

Everyone turned their gaze to where she was pointing, and the sight made their blood run cold. The body on the ground belonged to a young man who had joined the raid as a carrier. He wasn\'t a powerful cultivator, only at the seventh level of Body Tempering, but he had begged to be taken along, promising to carry supplies and help with menial tasks. Now, his once youthful face had aged dramatically.

His hair had turned gray, his skin sagging and wrinkled, his eyes sunken and dull.

They watched in horror as the young man\'s body continued to age right before their eyes. In the span of mere moments, he went from looking like a middle-aged man to an elderly figure on the brink of death. His breathing grew shallow, his chest rising and falling weakly. Then, with a final, painful groan, the man slumped over, lifeless.

His once vibrant body had become nothing more than a withered husk.

The sight sent a wave of dread through the group. Beads of sweat formed on their brows, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had faced powerful beasts and deadly traps before, but this… this was a nightmare.

"This can\'t be happening," one of the cultivators muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This is insane! We didn\'t sign up for this!" another one cried out, his voice filled with desperation.

More cultivators began voicing their fear, the tension rising rapidly. One man, unable to take it anymore, finally burst out, "I\'m out of here! I didn\'t come here to die like this!"

His words seemed to break the dam, and soon, others were echoing his sentiment. They weren\'t part of the Deathbringer Mercenary Squad, just lone cultivators who had joined the raid in hopes of wealth and power. But now, with death staring them in the face, they no longer cared about offending the mercenaries. Survival was their only concern.

"Wait!" Rynar\'s voice cut through the commotion, cold and commanding. The group fell silent, their gazes turning to him. His expression was stern, his eyes flashing with barely restrained anger.

"You think you can just walk away?" Rynar said, his voice laced with disdain. "You signed a contract with your essence blood. You knew the risks when you joined this raid. If any of you try to leave now, the Deathbringer Mercenary Squad will hunt you down. You know our reach. You know our means.

It won\'t be much trouble to track you all down and kill you… or worse, sell you as slaves."

The threat hung in the air like a heavy weight, pressing down on the cultivators. They shuddered at the thought. They had heard the rumors about the Deathbringer Mercenary Squad\'s ruthlessness. It wasn\'t just a mercenary group; it was an organization that held immense power in the region. To cross them was to invite death or a fate even worse.

The crowd fell into a tense silence. No one dared to speak up again. They were trapped, caught between the deadly creatures around them and the merciless organization that held their lives in its grip.

Leon observed the scene with a cold gaze. He could see the fear and despair in the eyes of the other cultivators. It was pathetic, really. They had come here seeking fortune and glory, but now they were reduced to quivering masses, too afraid to fight, too afraid to flee. For a moment, he considered letting them all die.

After all, their deaths would only serve to weaken the group, making things easier for him in the long run. But for now, he needed them alive.

Taking a deep breath, Leon steadied himself. His mind was already working, calculating his next move. The dungeon was far from over, and the real challenges had yet to begin.

Rynar\'s eyes, stern and calculating, settled on Leon as he finished reprimanding the cultivators who had dared to voice their desire to quit. The air was thick with tension, the Verdant Sprites still fluttering ominously around them, draining life force from anyone unprotected. The mercenary leader\'s gaze bore into Leon, his suspicion growing with every passing second.

"How?" Rynar\'s voice was low, but the authority in it made everyone around fall silent, their attention snapping to him and then to Leon.

Leon met Rynar\'s gaze, his expression neutral, feigning ignorance. "How?" he asked, as if he didn\'t understand the question.

"Don\'t play dumb…" Rynar\'s voice grew louder, his words carrying to the entire group. "I meant how are you protecting yourself from the effects of these strange creatures?"

Rynar\'s accusation was like a spark igniting dry tinder. The cultivators, already on edge and panicked, turned their collective fury toward Leon. Whispers and grumbles rippled through the crowd, quickly escalating into shouts of anger and accusation.

"He knew how to protect himself all this time?"

"Why didn\'t he tell us?"

"We\'ve been dying here while he kept this to himself!"

The crowd\'s emotions boiled over, their thoughts darkening with resentment and fear. They had all been caught off guard by the Verdant Sprites, their life forces being drained before their eyes, and now they were learning that Leon had somehow shielded himself. It felt like a betrayal, and their collective gaze sharpened into a glare of suspicion and rage.

Swoosh-!!!

Suddenly, a whooshing sound cut through the tense air. A blade gleamed in the dim light, slicing toward Leon\'s neck from behind, aiming to press its sharp edge against his skin and force him to reveal his secret.

But the attacker\'s eyes widened in shock as his blade met nothing but air. Leon was gone, his form vanishing from where he had been standing just seconds ago.

The crowd gasped, their eyes darting around in disbelief. How had Leon moved so quickly? His speed was incredible, and this was without the use of any visible technique like Blitz.

The attacker, still in a stance poised to strike, froze, his eyes wild as he searched for Leon. Panic began to creep into his thoughts—how had his sneak attack failed so miserably?

And then he felt it—a cold, sharp blade pressed lightly against the back of his neck. The metallic shing of a weapon being drawn from its sheath still echoed faintly in the air.

Leon\'s cold voice followed, resonating with authority. "If I want to speak, I\'ll speak. You have no right to threaten me into giving you any information. But since I\'ve made up my mind to reveal it, you can count yourself lucky."