It was practically beating up an old man.
Left hand, right hand, one slow-motion swing, straight into a vicious slap to the face, followed by an elbow to the sternum, catching his breath before chaining together a Federation haymaker and an Imperial elbow hook!
Wing Chun learned from Ye Xian, military combat drills picked up from Lu Feng... All the myriad techniques he had ever learned or witnessed in his life were summoned at Ji Jue's fingertips, seamlessly synthesized and executed with breathtaking, flawless fluidity.
Nothing was quite as exhilarating as a good, thoroughly uncouth beatdown.
Especially when the other side couldn't even fight back...
Not that one could blame Beigong. If the real Beigong were here to fight Ji Jue, he would have pulverized and incinerated him to ash in minutes without suspense. But Beigong had been dead for who knew how long.
And the Principle of the Griefsmith, an apocalyptic proof meant to be inscribed into reality, was never meant for a brawl like this in the first place.
Poking a supercomputer with a stun baton, smashing a royal crown with a hammer, scratching railway cars with nail clippers... What Ji Jue was doing was sheer, unadulterated desecration and vandalism.
And he didn't feel the slightest shred of remorse!
Logically speaking, none of this should have been possible. Forget probability; there wasn't a chance in hell even out to ten thousand decimal places!
The gap between a Celestial-Human and a Raw Stone was absolute, and between Exaltation and a Sage lay countless insurmountable barriers and unfathomable chasms.
Yet what could be done when Beigong had brought this on himself!
Immersed in the unfolding of the apocalypse through cycle after cycle, Ji Jue had long become deeply entangled with the proof of Beigong...
So deeply entangled that it was practically within arm's reach!
Even the spiritus Ji Jue currently burned through and the efficiency with which he regenerated his body were blessings bestowed upon him by the proof of Beigong!
Beating the chef while holding his rice bowl, shoveling down grains as he struck, and smacking his lips the whole damn time.
A masterclass in biting the hand that fed him!
Beyond the apocalypse, the Saintly Fool Instrument trembled violently. Countless deformed, curling fingers snapped wide, as if roaring in righteous, apoplectic fury!
A single mosquito bite didn't hurt, but who could stand being covered in welts from head to toe?
The incomplete Spirit of Creation was driven into a raging frenzy, mobilizing every ounce of power within the apocalyptic scene, exhausting every possible means in a desperate bid to excise this ever-growing tumor inside its flesh.
The first to manifest were natural disasters: the earth quaked, lava erupted, fierce gales howled, biting frost assailed the air, dark storm clouds convulsed, thunder raged violently, and even the flying sand and shattered stones caught in the tempest accelerated past the speed of sound.
It was like making an enemy of the entire world.
A firefly contending against the blazing sun.
A figure so tiny it seemed almost pitiful stood between heaven and earth, gazing coldly at the encroaching tempest. With both hands spread wide, ten fingers extended, he carved out a foothold for himself amidst the violent tide.
No matter the raging storm or the earth-shattering cataclysms outside, the space within arm's reach remained calm, utterly unshakeable.
The degradation originating from Beigong was reenacted through the higher Principle of the Griefsmith, crashing down upon Ji Jue time and again, yet it proved entirely futile. Before it could take effect, it was repaired and severed.
Ji Jue deliberately created vulnerable points upon his own flesh to absorb the all-permeating degradation, confining the damage strictly to a scale that could never shake his core.
Through the ten fingers of his hands, he held his ground against the wrathful apocalypse, even seeming to deliberately provoke the Saintly Fool Instrument in return.
He was baiting it into mobilizing ever more power, driving it to unleash ever more terrifying suppression and ruin.
Until...
Just as Elder Zhen's eyes quivered slightly and he instinctively moved to reach out, his phantom hand was seized firmly by Tianlu, who stood right beside him.
Tianlu wore a faint, ambiguous smile.
"Don't be in such a rush, Elder Zhen." A single thread of Tianlu's interference materialized right where it mattered most. "The game between the two of us isn't over yet!"
Even if the outcome was already set in stone.
Beneath the grandmaster's overarching gaze, every shift and future was as clear as a blazing fire.
At last, the endgame was sealed!
*Rumble!*
The Blood Eye high above the heavens fully solidified.
Like the physical embodiment of doom, the true quintessence of ruin, the Principle of the Griefsmith fully manifested between heaven and earth alongside massive upheavals and destruction.
Like a titan descending from the firmament!
And Ji Jue's right hand exploded with a sharp bang!
Under this head-on clash, it was completely pulverized and devastated, his entire frame nearly dissolving and vaporizing into nothingness...
Yet a smile broke across his face, impossible to contain.
Pure, unadulterated delight.
Finally... he had waited long enough for this moment!
*Now you've shown your health bar, haven't you?!*
Amidst the swirling flames, Ji Jue's left hand reconstituted itself once more. Reaching out toward that lofty vault of heaven, toward that pair of destined eyes looking down upon him, he clamped his fist shut!
The sound of fracturing rang out continuously. Cracks webbed across Ji Jue's arm, fragments flying outward before instantly reforming, burning away rapidly like a melting candle.
A grasp backed by everything he had, yet all it could achieve was forcing a minuscule portion of that colossal silhouette—gradually taking shape amidst the apocalypse—to emerge into the light...
Like a titan lurking behind dense fog showing a glimpse of its form, viewed across such an immense distance, it was merely a single scale and claw!
Yet this time, what awaited it was no longer Jingzhen.
Ji Jue raised his right hand and reached backward.
He roared at the top of his lungs toward the long-awaited conclusion and finality:
"—*Come!*"
Heaven and earth fell dead silent; all phenomena froze in place.
Only between his spreading fingers, as they contracted, did he grasp an invisible hilt. A magnificent, brilliant radiance erupted from Ji Jue's grip, surging forth in a blazing torrent!
The visitor cast into this apocalypse from the very beginning, the paramount variable, the personal creation of the contemporary Tianlu—
*Natural Enemy*!
The weapon reputed to counter all changes, suppress every foe, and embody destruction and death forged specifically for any opponent had fallen into Ji Jue's hands.
There was no resistance, no hesitation.
It yielded to his command with absolute obedience.
Authority unlocked, Cosmogony opened, the forging begins!
Amidst the rushing torrent of boundless power, the form of Natural Enemy surfaced for a fleeting instant, pouring into his soul, taking control of its wielder in turn, instructing him on how to master his own being!
What he glimpsed were countless possibilities surpassing even his own realm; what he sensed were infinite variations beyond his wildest imagination...
Endless forms, specifications, essences, and contours surged from within his heart, as if the entire world were held within his palm, every creation under heaven laid bare before his eyes, awaiting his selection and call.
As long as he willed it, as long as he desired it, as long as even a single thought stirred in his mind... boundless creation was his for the taking!
From the unseen depths, a voice resonated in his heart, seeking a verdict on behalf of all existence in the mortal realm, allowing no hesitation, brooking no escape, posing the question:
[Ji Jue, what do you seek?]
"What do I seek?"
Ji Jue couldn't help but laugh. "Does that even need asking? Don't drag your feet, hurry the hell up!"
He said, "Show me your absolute limit!"
Natural Enemy chimed in resonance. All phenomena lowered their gaze, and creation descended, answering the command and yearning of its wielder, turning here and now to recreate the supreme visage!
At this very moment, throughout the entire apocalypse, every single artisan heard their own heartbeat once more.
Like the beating of war drums.
Their souls leapt in wild ecstasy, surging upward, yet simultaneously bowed in reverent trembling, listening to the lofty, distant resonance echoing from Natural Enemy.
They felt it—the call arising from the deepest recesses of their souls!
"Take it!"
With a resounding chime of bells, Li Lin nodded resolutely.
Panting for breath, Jiang Tongguang laughed heartily and waved his hand, draining the dregs of wine from his cup. Propping himself up on his flamberge, Yellowbeard dragged himself up from the ground once more, roaring into the distance.
In the heart of the storm, the curled dachshund whimpered, opening its mouth to breathe out a final sliver of faint light.
A maidenly figure stepped out from beside it, bending down to gently pat its head, bidding it a smiling farewell before walking resolutely toward the origin of the blazing light.
Countless cracking sounds echoed across the apocalypse as immense numbers of creations shattered in response. Rising from the wreckage and fragments were faint, subtle motes of light.
Like kindling sparks.
Now, as stream after stream of brilliant flash converged and ascended into the heavens, what emerged was a magnificent torrent piercing through earth and sky.
Rising from the ground, descending from the sky.
Bringing forth a miracle!
The manifestation of Tianlu!
Yet it required no favor from Embers. Rather, in a near-total reversal, it harnessed every manner of mortal creation and infinite surging kindling to reenact this scene of succession!
Simulating change.
Beyond the apocalypse, across the pale heavens, every trace of insignificant iridescent light was entirely dispelled, replaced by a vast silver radiance like a galaxy woven through the wheel of Heaven's Mandate.
As if hearing the call of a covenant once again, the stars transformed into kindling, echoing the resonance from within the apocalypse, rushing in an unending torrent.
One fleeting flash stacked upon another, faintly converging into a straight, razor-sharp trace...
Like the edge of a blade sweeping away every obstacle.
Inch by inch, descending from the sky.
Pointing straight at the near-frozen Saintly Fool Instrument.
Pointing at Heaven's Mandate, long gestating within the apocalypse yet forever unable to reach completion!
Like the wrathful kindling of the stars, posing its solemn interrogation:
"Where is your proof, what is your pursuit—"
Amidst the burning kindling, Ji Jue's eyes flared with blinding light as he faced the phantom before him: "Where is your creation? Where are your works? Where is your achievement?"
Pressing forward against the crushing weight of the Sage realm, he took step after step, trampling over destiny and endings, the silver flame within his soul blazing high as he pronounced judgment:
"What you seek is not creation, but collapse; what you make is not accomplishment, but inevitable decay; what you bring forth holds no tomorrow, only an eternal cycle!"
"—Therefore, I pronounce you an abomination!"
Within the apocalyptic scene, the heavens fell and the earth cracked open. Heaven and earth were swallowed by blazing light, as if the dormant Heaven's Mandate had risen in wrath, manifesting from the weaving of all phenomena.
At this moment, the stars were kindling, and Heaven's Mandate was a blade.
Everything rested in Ji Jue's hands, surging to the absolute zenith in his swing...
*Sever!*
Dead, soundless, breathless silence.
Only inevitable ruin and demise remained. The apocalyptic scene evaporated without a trace, the Principle of the Griefsmith burned to cinders, and wherever the radiant light swept, every unfolding evolution met its final end.
From the moment the Principle of the Griefsmith revealed its health bar and could be targeted, the outcome was already sealed.
Between the sea and sky, the Saintly Fool Instrument wailed, shrieking in agony.
Like the dying cry of an infant.
Yet from beginning to end, Elder Zhen offered no response, merely looking on with cold detachment.
Until the silver flames poured like a tidal wave from between each writhing, curling finger, spreading, unfurling, burning away thousands of threads, reducing everything touched by them to ashes.
A lifetime's work of the Griefsmith, wiped out in smoke and dust!
Now, amidst the sky full of drifting ash, Ji Jue coldly retracted his gaze and lowered his head.
"*Ptui!*"
Chapter 824