An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2616

Chapter 2616

The bandaged old man raced through the mud below the earth, using the Earth Escape Technique.

Though he’d hidden well during the altar’s destruction, he hadn’t escaped unscathed. His internal energy was in chaos, and a dull ache throbbed through his organs.

Still, he had no time to heal.

He pushed forward at full speed, tearing through the underground paths, heading straight for the underground palace.

He had to warn the elders. They needed to relocate—immediately.

The palace entrance was hidden beneath the roots of a massive, thousand-year-old banyan tree. Without knowing the secret, no one would ever find it—even digging a hundred feet underground.

The old man burned through his remaining energy, gritting his teeth as he tunneled on. After over ten minutes of desperate flight, he finally reached his destination.

He flicked three bone talismans from his fingertips. The tangled roots of the ancient banyan began to part like living vines, slowly revealing a narrow, pitch-black passage.

The moment he stepped inside, the soil behind him surged and sealed off the entrance completely.

Boom!

He collapsed onto the stone floor, face-first, chest heaving from exhaustion. His true energy had been nearly depleted.

“Protector! What happened?!”

The cultists guarding the underground palace rushed forward in alarm.

Their faces were pale, eyes sunken. Dressed in black robes that reeked of decay, they looked more like walking corpses than living men.

“Quick! Tell the Great Elder…” the old man gasped, clutching one of the cultists by the wrist, bony fingers digging in. “That man—the land immortal—he’s come to wipe us out!”

The cultists froze for a second before scattering in panic, rushing deeper into the palace to report the news.

In minutes, the word had spread like wildfire.

The underground palace, built from the bones of tens of thousands, erupted into chaos.

Corpse-oil lanterns embedded in the walls flickered wildly, casting grotesque shadows across the walls carved with bone reliefs—grotesque demons and tortured souls, now dancing wildly in the flickering light.

At the deepest point in the palace, the Great Elder of the White Bone Cult sat cross-legged atop a throne made of human bones.

He looked mummified—skin stretched tight over bone, face hollow—but his eyes glowed with a sickly green light.

The moment he heard the cultists’ report, his skeletal hands gripped the skull-encrusted armrests.

The embedded skulls let out shrill, piercing screams.

“Useless fools!” the Great Elder rasped, his voice as harsh as dry bones grinding together. “Three priests together couldn’t stop one man?”

The bandaged old man prostrated himself on the floor, not daring to look up.

“That man… isn’t just any expert,” he croaked. “He’s a land immortal. The golden light he wields burns everything it touches. Even Bloodhand’s Blood River Formation couldn’t withstand it!”

“A land immortal?” The Great Elder’s expression shifted sharply. “Is he the one purging the corpse poison? How did he arrive so quickly?”

“The imperial hounds already came sniffing around before. I handled them quietly, but it must’ve tipped him off. He followed the trail right to us,” the old man reasoned.

“Damn it!”

The Great Elder leapt to his feet. Instantly, thick black mist erupted around him, writhing with countless tormented souls—moaning, clawing, screaming in agony.

“Activate the Blood Fiend Formation! Gather the Twelve Venerables—we’re retreating!”

With his command, deep mechanical rumbles echoed through the palace.

Twelve figures emerged from the walls on either side of the bone temple. Each wore bone-plated armor and held a distinct bone weapon—axes, flutes, spears, sickles.

As they walked, thin trails of blood mist curled around their feet.

These were the Twelve Venerables—White Bone Cult’s most elite force.

Each one a Grandmaster.

Together, they could challenge even those at the peak of martial cultivation.

They were the cult’s greatest legacy… and its last resort.

“Great Elder,” one of them spoke—the first on the left, his bone flute dripping with dark red fluid. “This underground palace… it’s the foundation of our sect. We’re really just leaving it behind?”

The Great Elder shot him a cold glare.

“As long as we live, we can rebuild. That man destroyed my altar. He killed our priests. He is now the mortal enemy of our entire sect!” He paused, then added, “We’ll rendezvous with the Holy Son and return stronger.”

The Twelve Venerables gave no more objections. They lowered their heads in unison.

The bandaged old man staggered after them—but before he could follow, the Great Elder kicked him to the floor.

“You’re nothing but dead weight now.”

Before the old man could plead, a sharp crack echoed through the air.

A single bone needle shot from the Great Elder’s fingertip and pierced the old man’s back.

The old man’s eyes bulged in disbelief, mouth working soundlessly.

His body shriveled rapidly, deflating like a punctured sack, until all that remained was a thin layer of human skin.

“Open the secret passage!”

The Great Elder grabbed the human skin and pressed it against the bone altar in the center of the temple.

The altar rumbled violently.

With a thunderous crack, a massive crevice opened in the floor—a staircase leading down into endless blackness.

The Twelve Venerables filed in one by one. The Great Elder followed last.

Just as he was about to disappear into the gap—

BOOM!

The entire underground palace trembled violently.

“Damn it!” the Great Elder’s face twisted. “He’s here!”

An overwhelming pressure surged above them.

A terrifying presence descended from the heavens.

For the first time in years, true panic gripped the heart of the White Bone Cult’s Great Elder.

A monster had arrived at their doorstep.