Dead men could not tell much of a tale to someone untrained in excavating it. But this cultivator, like the others Anper er Yecine had flushed out, had never been about to tell him where the next cell operated in the first place. Therefore, dead was as good as living - at least then they were not trying to kill him.
The cultist's body twitched on the ground before the elder devote to family pride realized his mistake… and plunged his blade down once more. Piercing a heart in a form that did not flow naturally from long-learned motions, just from skill meeting desperation. Twisting his sword tip in a wrenching way to destroy the vital organ.
"Regeneration Physique. Won't let that happen a third time."
The original strike had also been less than cleanly performed, he assessed. His Danger Astralism had screamed the needed warning only half a second before the cultist moved - that spike of killing intent as sharp and slick as the poisoned knife being drawn.
