At this moment, in Xinquan.
Amidst the scorched earth, corpses sang; amidst the raging flames, souls shrieked.
Emerald fire surged into the sky wave after wave, raging violently. Pacquiao roared with the sound of thunder. Beneath his feet, the Eternal Dark Charnel Abyss expanded abruptly, gushing forth an inexhaustible torrent of rotting limbs and wreckage. They detonated in chain reactions like bombs, once again forcing the three heroes completely back.
An Exaltation that had already fought to his peak was now erupting with even more terrifying power—faintly seeming to take another step forward!
The way of conquest lay in sacrifice and war!
Setting aside the horrifying burst power and health bar of the Swarm, the blessing of the Lord of Scars was inherently built for long, grueling wars of attrition.
Every single wound left by the besieging Hero's Seeds became an offering to feed his eruption and sustain him. By expending his wounds, he could plainly and solidly bolster both his defense and offense.
Even when Surtr finally seized an opening with a long-charged flaming sword, Pacquiao could meet it head-on and force it back.
Parrying Farbauti's lightning javelins was just as effortless.
Wound for wound, life for life.
The lower his health, the faster he regenerated; the more grievous his injuries, the greater his strength.
Unfortunately...
It was utterly useless.
On the outside, the dual blockade of the Heavenly Work shield and Solid Alchemy completely severed the interior from the exterior, turning this into a closed-door beatdown. On the inside, there was the relentless onslaught of the three Hero's Seeds backed by the control and suppression of Master Craftsman Yellowbeard, who pulled out secret weapons from time to time to treat Pacquiao to endless unpleasant surprises.
Three giant heroes—Hymir, Father of Warriors; Farbauti, Lord of Thunder; and Surtr, Fire Giant. One crowd control, one mage, one brawler. Once they pinned him down, it was a circular curb-stomp!
Now the earth shook and the mountains trembled. Xinquan was cracking and collapsing. The scale of the battle grew grander, the numbers surged higher, yet Pacquiao's chances of victory dwindled, his hope fading by the second.
He could not flee, could not win, and could not outlast them.
That he had lasted this long was entirely thanks to the lavish sacrifices he had prepared beforehand, and the sheer volume of emerald fire converted from the slaughtered cannon fodder.
Sitting idle and eating through one's reserves was precisely this.
Watching his opponents steadily ramp up the pressure, boiling the frog in warm water to wear him down to the bitter end, Pacquiao grew more desperate the longer he fought—
In the past, he would never have dreamed in his wildest nightmares that he would die at the hands of two craftsmen.
All one could say was: that was an Embers user with prep time for you.
And the only thing more sickening than an Embers user with prep time was two of them. Worse still, both had set their sights on the exact same material, stopping at nothing while working in seamless coordination with a crystal-clear division of the spoils.
Compared to a pairing this underhanded, intel White Stag, veteran Tianyuan, healthy Vortex, full-throttle Entropy, invisible Mirror, memetic Heart Pivot, and homecoming Door all had to take a back seat.
Yet at this very moment, Pacquiao was not the only one drenched in cold sweat.
Yellowbeard, who held victory firmly in his grasp, was growing increasingly restless. An itch crept over his whole body as tension and pressure mounted, making it difficult to focus. Anxiously, he subconsciously picked up the pace.
The pressure was mountainous.
What was even more absurd was that this suffocating weight came not from his adversary, but from the teammate squatting right behind him!
He could feel that as the spiritus circulated and countless drops of quicksilver shifted, wisp after wisp of spiritus circuits grew increasingly reckless. Taking advantage of the fact that Yellowbeard had his hands full, they repeatedly crossed the line.
Ji Jue's not-so-clean little hands were already quietly analyzing his Shield of the Precipice!
From touching to petting, then to hugging and nuzzling—at first, the kid had pretended to stumble and fall into big sis's embrace, but then he got more and more out of hand, and by now he didn't even bother putting on an act!
And when Yellowbeard remembered that this little bastard was Ye Xian's student, and what that lineage was best at, the sweat started pouring.
Since ancient times, craftsmen wished death upon their peers precisely because, being in the same trade, they knew all too well what kind of shameless birds of a feather they were.
*You think I don't know what you're up to?!*
Yet Ji Jue maintained an expression of pure, harmless innocence, looking for all the world like a well-behaved boy left in your care by a relative. Even while his hands roved around shamelessly, he smiled with genuine, naive honesty, seizing upon Yellowbeard's earlier remarks to act the part of an eager student not ashamed to ask questions of his superiors.
For a moment, Yellowbeard felt a faint green tinge spreading over his pointed head.
"Mr. Yellowbeard, when the two sequences of this Heavenly Work operate in parallel, how exactly do they combine...?"
"Mr. Yellowbeard, was this flamberge of yours tailored specifically to Surtr? The adjustments are truly extraordinary—to think it can actually interfere with an Exaltation's Domain!"
"Mr. Yellowbeard, that Transmutation trick of yours is incredible. Could you elaborate on that a bit...?"
"Mr. Yellowbeard—Mr. Yell—"
Unable to endure it a second longer, Yellowbeard whipped his head around and snarled, "Shut up!"
Instantly, Ji Jue froze, staring blankly. A layer of watery mist seemed to veil his eyes. His lips trembled slightly, and he murmured meekly, "Okay."
The sight made the corners of Yellowbeard's eyes twitch violently, an unreasonable fury flaring inside him. *You're acting wronged now, you little bastard?!*
*Boom!*
Along with Yellowbeard's spiritus infusion and control, spiritus circuits surfaced across the bodies of the three Hero's Seeds, growing ever more frenzied!
Creations differed from humans; they did not require spiritus to sustain a Regeneration form. The moment they left the furnace, they were already fully complete. Consequently, they had no need for Metamorphosis or Calling.
Thus, all of their blessings and power could be directed into augmenting themselves and converting into sheer destructive force.
For that same reason, unlike the Celestial Chosen, they could not anchor their souls to the Great Image, let alone manifest that phenomenon born of the soul fusing with blessings—the [Domain].
Suppressing an opponent by sheer numbers was still insufficient to secure an absolute advantage; one had to deploy specialized creations tailored to the target. Regrettably, even a Master Craftsman could not carry his workshop's Heavenly Works around with him wherever he went. Yellowbeard had only brought the Shield of the Precipice to ensure things would not completely collapse beyond recovery.
At this moment, attempting to end the fight quickly gave him a faint sense of inadequacy.
He could only watch helplessly as that little bastard groped his precious treasure... Maybe, before hammering Pacquiao to death, he ought to just hammer this brat into paste first!
And in that very instant, a change occurred.
The crisp ring of a blade sliding from its sheath echoed throughout Xinquan.
At once, heaven and earth fell silent.
The ground quaked, as if an aerial combat squadron were carpet-bombing it with phlogiston explosives.
A familiar stench of smoke drifted through the air. Blossoms of emerald fire descended from the heavens, landing on mangled corpses and blooming like lotuses.
Those charred scents drifted on the wind, invading his nostrils.
So familiar.
"I—"
Lu Feng gazed blankly at the scene before him, and into the distance, where the Swarm churned with blood and fire under the siege of the giant heroes, the tremors unending.
It was as if he had suddenly snapped back to his senses.
His memories were continuous, yet he felt as though he had just awakened from a dream.
Something seemed to be missing.
The channel was so quiet. He had been unresponsive for so long, yet the maintenance technician hadn't spoken, and the command center's voice was nowhere to be heard. Was the entire channel on radio silence? What about me? Where am I?
*Ah, I'm in combat.*
When that realization surfaced in his mind, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of joy. Yes, that was right—combat. But what was the mission?
Was it annihilation? Or preservation?
Lost in a daze of erratic thoughts, Lu Feng acted on instinct, his fingers twitching deftly as he tried to reboot the spinal interface. Yet there was no response, nor could he find the tools he knew best.
He felt only an empty void, as if... as if he had lost his very body!
*Snap!*
Something seemed to have been triggered. Memories surged uncontrollably, yet remained blurred. Waves of agony shot through his skull, bringing him to the verge of fainting.
*Warning! Warning!*
*No, once I... I also... I...*
*Warning! Clearance unverified, warning!*
*As long as—no, when have I ever seen a sight like this?!*
Lu Feng roared.
A groundless fury, the sorrow of losing half his body, and instinctive—
*Thwack!*
In that instant, a fist clenched and knocked against his forehead.
Through the Dragon Mountain armor, that circulating power struck like an iron hammer, driving straight into his marrow and spreading with steady force, suppressing every extraneous buzz and echo.
It finally pulled him out of that nightmare-like state, waking him as he gasped violently for air.
Only then did he realize his back was already soaked in sweat.
"...Why the hell is there another Tianjun? And only half a piece left?"
A puzzled, raspy voice rang out, laden with utter bewilderment. "What kind of garbage did they modify this into? It's an eyesore! Splitting the soul and the tool into two parts? What idiot came up with that bright idea?"
The person standing before Lu Feng studied him with curious scrutiny.
Old Tom!
No... it was no longer Old Tom.
On that face, the left half still belonged to Old Tom, looking shocked and struggling desperately to regain control over the body. But on the right half, a stubble-covered, heavily scarred face had surfaced, looking as if he had just awakened from a hangover, carrying a lingering haze of drunkenness.
"Grandfather?!"
The moment he spoke, Fourth Granduncle's expression changed abruptly. "How did you get out?!"
Overhearing this, the old woman turned her head, instantly horrified. "How did the old bastard wake up?!"
"Holy shit, Ah Qian, we're in trouble!"
The old woman's face shifted violently, morphing into a middle-aged man covered in tattoos, who shouted a warning: "Hurry and call your dad out! Quick—"
The left half of Tang Qian's face twitched, leaving him on the verge of tears.
*I damn well want to!*
*But the old bastard logged straight into my account!*
"Stop your squawking!"
The bearded man on the right half of the face glanced over sideways. Reversing host and guest, he effortlessly took full possession of the body, then swung his hand and delivered two vicious backhands, swatting them both back.
*Get out of my sight!*
"Calm down, please calm down, Lord Tianlu—" Tang Qian was practically crying. "We took this job as substitute fighters! Don't—"
"Shut your trap, or I'll slap you too!"
Lord Tianlu cut his eyes toward the left half of the face. Once Tang Qian obediently clamped his mouth shut, he lowered his head, leisurely examining the Dragon Mountain armor before him.
More precisely, he looked at Lu Feng inside it, and at what Lu Feng held in his hand—
Pan Ying!
Chapter 424