Twenty xenon lamps nearby and six searchlights in the distance flared to life simultaneously at that moment, turning the entire port into daytime and banishing the darkness. The blaze also illuminated the group of evil class users leaping from the yacht onto the shore. They wore matching black robes with hoods drawn forward, concealing their faces.
Concealed behind shipping containers, a dozen New York County police officers shouldered six individual rocket launchers and pulled the triggers at the cloaked figures.
Swoosh! Swoosh!
Six trails of smoke shrieked toward the black-robed figures. A series of thunderous rumbles followed as explosive fireballs swallowed the evil class users from the Second District.
The flames distorted their silhouettes, and the black-robed figures shattered like phantoms—reappearing more than a dozen meters away in the next instant.
No, they had been there all along. The New York County police officers had fallen under an illusion and fired upon empty ground.
"Sending a bunch of ants to disgust us?"
A black-robed man stepped forward, raising his head. Dizziness-inducing vortexes surfaced in his eye sockets.
Meeting the gaze of those eyes swirling with translucent vortexes, the rocket-toting police officers felt terrifying panic detonate in their minds. In sheer terror, they dropped their weapons and fled the port.
Facing such ant-like mortals, this Illusionist did not even bother to use Mental Strike, deeming them unworthy of costing him Morality Points.
Whew!
Suddenly, a shrill whistling of wind rang out. A sharp crack sounded behind the Illusionist, followed by a deep slash mark across the air. The Illusionist's body slowly split apart, severed cleanly in two by an abrupt wind blade.
Internal organs spilled out with a wet splash, dark red soaking into the ground.
Just like that, a Saint-stage Illusionist returned to the Spirit Realm.
Whoosh—
Gales whipped up violently as six or seven figures swept over the port like fighter jets. Leading them was none other than North, a peak Saint of Heaven's Punishment; the swift wind blade moments ago had come from his hand.
The Wind Mages swooped past above the port, unleashing dense wind blades that formed a barrage blanketing the enemies below.
The black-robed figures across the wharf dodged one after another, employing various skills to cope with the terrible carpet-bombing assault. Even so, one Saint was killed in the first volley, and two others were severely wounded.
In a single exchange, the Saints from the Second District had lost two lives and had two gravely injured.
One of the black-robed men snorted coldly and threw his head back, letting loose a piercing screech.
The moment he lifted his head, Zhang Yuanqing, looking down from the top of the lighthouse, caught sight of his face and recognized his identity.
Though Illusionists had a myriad of disguises, they still needed a consistent identity to maintain their social networks; hence, most of the time, they did not alter their appearance.
This man's Spirit Realm ID was Mengmo!
A peak Saint of the Southern Sect, a Senior Deacon even stronger than his former spirit servant, Yin Chuanmei.
Mengmo operated year-round in Fu Province, so Zhang Yuanqing had only ever seen his profile on the Five Elements Alliance's wanted list and had never crossed paths with him; otherwise, he would have long sent him back to the Spirit Realm.
Amidst the shrill screech, everyone—whether the Saints of the Second District or the Wind Mages in the sky—felt as though struck heavily over the head. Splitting headaches tore through them, and blood gushed from eardrums, eye sockets, and nostrils.
Seizing the opportunity, another black-robed man clutched his head, endured the pain, and spat a stream of Yin qi from his mouth.
The Yin qi morphed into clawing, snarling wraiths that lunged at the dazed Wind Mages reeling from the mental strike. Under normal circumstances, a spirit servant's flight speed could never keep pace with a Wind Mage.
As a Stargazer specializing in lunar power, Zhang Yuanqing narrowed his eyes, closely studying the man's appearance while opening his Star Eyes to inspect the man's Fate Palace.
To his regret, he found that neither the face nor the fate pattern was familiar.
*I'll make a mental note of him. If he dies here, no matter; if he escapes, I can check against the Taiyi Sect's records later. There aren't many level-six peak Saints!* Zhang Yuanqing looked away and directed his gaze back toward the night sky.
As wraiths burrowed into their bodies and possessed them, the Wind Mages in midair lost control of their movements, tumbling and swerving erratically like drunken birds.
Seeing this, a black-robed figure strode forward. His garments exploded outward, revealing a bronze-skinned, muscular torso. Standing around 1.8 meters tall with a crew cut, his eyes were bound in black cloth.
Rumor had it that the Divine General of Envy favored blindfolding himself with black cloth because it maximally suppressed his jealousy.
What he couldn't see didn't exist; thus, envy would not take root. Without envy, he wouldn't kill on impulse.
Facing ordinary mortals, the Divine General of Envy disdainfully went without a blindfold—partly because mortals possessed very little capable of stirring his jealousy, and partly because ants could be squashed at whim without second thought.
Only when teaming up with Spirit Realm walkers of his own level or attending gatherings of the evil faction would he cover his eyes.
The Divine General of Envy reached into the void and drew out a dark crimson heavy bow. Aiming at one of the spinning Wind Mages, he pulled back the bowstring as crimson qi radiated from his fingertips, condensing into a slender arrow.
Just as the bow bent into a full moon, a figure bounded across the shipping containers and arrived on the scene: the short-blond-haired, ruggedly handsome Knight Chazo.
Resting his hands on a cruciform longsword, the Knight spoke in a deep, authoritative voice, like a monarch proclaiming a decree or a judge declaring the law:
"Rules of this engagement: The use of bows and arrows is prohibited."
Sacred white light erupted from the blade. The covenant was sealed; the rule descended.
The Divine General of Envy's arms felt weighed down by thousand-jin boulders. Trembling faintly, he found it impossible to release the bowstring; only by lowering the bow could he escape the suppression of the rule's power.
Suddenly, a coin flew in from afar, tumbling through the air before striking the Divine General of Envy with a sharp ping and falling to the ground, accompanied by a low voice:
"That is no bow. It is a crossbow!"
The silver coin popped and shattered with a bang, and the power of the rule imposed on the Divine General of Envy vanished immediately.
The advanced class for an Alcoholic was called a "Disorderly"—specialists at breaking order and exploiting loopholes in rules. They and Knights countered each other mutually.
While a Knight could restore chaotic order, a Disorderly could punch holes in the rules established by a Knight.
*Twang!*
The Divine General of Envy released the string. The crisp, piercing sound reverberated through the night sky.
The arrow transformed into a beam of bloody light, punching straight through one Wind Mage in an instant. After shooting dozens of meters past, it wheeled around and pierced a second wraith-possessed Wind Mage.
Still locked in a struggle against the wraiths for control of their bodies, the Wind Mages could not spare the attention to evade, turning into sitting ducks.
*Bzzzt...*
Arcs of electric blue crackled to life in midair, weaving into an electrified net that engulfed the four Wind Mages. The physically fragile mages instantly went rigid, hair standing on end, eyes rolling back.
Three plummeted directly from the sky, puffs of black smoke rising from their bodies as Zhang Yuanqing heard the shrill, heart-wrenching shrieks of the wraiths.
In terms of dispelling spirits, domineering lightning was second only to a Night Wanderer's Spirit Devouring and the Solar Divine Power.
North, at the level-six peak, had neither lost his mobility nor been stunned by the electricity. Instead, utilizing the lightning's exorcising effect, he reclaimed control over his body. Calmly raising a wall of wind, he caused the streak of blood-red light to shatter harmlessly against it.
Manipulating the air currents, he swept up his three unconscious companions and rapidly withdrew.
On the other side, Deep Sea Terror, a senior Saint of the Sea God Church, conjured a steed formed of seawater and charged at high speed into the Divine General of Envy.
The black-robed figures along his path scrambled out of the way.
*Bang!*
The steed crashed into the Divine General of Envy's chest with a boom like muffled thunder, sending him flying backward into the sea.
With a massive splash, a gigantic, black-scaled serpent head emerged from the water, opening a maw lined with razor-sharp teeth. Rearing up, it swallowed the Divine General of Envy whole before diving back into the ocean depths.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Deep Sea Terror, who had just bowled over the Divine General of Envy, suddenly began coughing violently. His face turned pale, his eyeballs bloodshot, taking on a sickly, feverish pallor.
He had fallen ill.
A Water Ghost was hidden among the black-robed figures—and a late level-six Water Ghost at that. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to infect a robust Siren with disease so quickly.
The yacht's earlier escape across the waves had undoubtedly been this Water Ghost's doing as well.
At this moment, Deep Sea Terror was positioned right in the heart of the black-robed crowd. In an instant, more than a dozen black-robed figures lashed out simultaneously, unleashing their class skills or retrieving props. An overwhelming barrage spanning all kinds of domains converged on the Siren.
Had he been on open water, Deep Sea Terror might have relied on a Siren's domain to weather the assault, but this was land after all, even if the sea lay just paces away.
Moreover, he was struck down with severe illness and in a weakened state. Sirens lacked escape arts; under such concentrated fire, death was certain.
Right then, Riley Eugene—with his dark-golden hair combed back and wearing a blue suit, exuding an air of meticulous sophistication from head to toe—appeared beside Deep Sea Terror and clasped his shoulder.
A split second before the onslaught landed, both vanished.
Teleportation!
Supporting Deep Sea Terror, Riley Eugene reappeared beside a shipping container more than a dozen meters away. "I saved your life. How about five million?"
Deep Sea Terror glanced at him. "I'll give you another hundred thousand for a pill that cures illness."
"Two hundred thousand!"
"One hundred and fifty thousand!"
"Deal!" Riley Eugene reached out and plucked a gleaming yellow pill from the void, passing it over.
Swallowing the pill, Deep Sea Terror's complexion gradually regained its ruddy warmth. The burning in his lungs, the weakness in his limbs, and his splitting headache subsided rapidly.
Just then, a boom resonated across the sea as waves sprayed in all directions.
A figure leapt from the water and landed heavily on the shore—the Divine General of Envy.
His black robe had been torn to shreds, leaving him completely bare. His bronze-toned musculature was sharply defined, packed with terrifying power. Half of his face was covered in bizarre tattoos; anyone looking directly at him felt dizzy and disoriented.
Four phantasmal arms extended from his back, splayed slightly in an aggressive posture poised to tear anyone to pieces.
On the water behind him, a massive serpent body slowly floated to the surface. Its head had been blown to bits, yet curiously, not a single drop of blood seeped into the sea.
The Divine General of Envy had actually suffered considerable injuries, but after slaughtering the sea beast, the Bewitching Demon's passive, Bloodthirsty Rampage, instantly healed his wounds and boosted his combat power.
His aura now flared with untamed arrogance, overshadowing the comrades beside him.
After that first clash, neither side engaged immediately. Instead, they scrutinized and weighed up their opponents, with over thirty Saints facing off across the two factions.
Zhang Yuanqing refrained from making a move. He suspected that the evil faction's true objective in tonight's Saint-level battle was Jumang—to kill him and seize his Dominator-grade props. That way, even if they gained no advantage in the Dominator-level clash, the evil faction would still reap immense profits.
He needed to observe further and avoid charging in rashly.
By now, the Dominators had moved far from the harbor battlefield. From the port, one could only look out toward the distant horizon where hurricanes howled, lightning flashed, and the desolate, high-pitched cries of sea beasts echoed from time to time.
Evidently, the Dominators had deliberately steered clear of this area.
Neither side wanted a mutually destructive clash that would wipe out their peak Saints, who were, after all, the reserve ranks for Dominators and the pillars of the future.
Riley Eugene appraised the several peak Saints who had just acted, his tone like a merchant taking inventory:
"One Plague God, one Mist Lord, one Dream Master, one Stargazer, one Disorderly... In sheer numbers, our side holds the advantage, but they have more peak-stage class users. Odds of victory are about fifty-fifty."
As soon as he spoke, a towering figure clad in a black robe with a pulled-up hood stepped out from beside a container.
Standing a full two meters tall, his skeletal frame far exceeded that of an ordinary adult. His face was wrapped in white bandages, exposing only a pair of demonic, vertical crimson pupils.
At the sight of him, Chazo and the others grew instantly grim, treating him like a mortal menace. Riley Eugene wiped the nonchalance from his face as well, his brow furrowing.
Typhoeus!
The Demonic Progenitor, Typhoeus.
He was the Saint ranked number one on New York County's Class-A wanted list and number two on Heaven's Punishment headquarters' Class-A wanted list. This Demonic Progenitor had made his name a full decade ago; back when he ran rampant across the Free Confederation, many of the Saints present were mere rookies.
In the world of Spirit Realm walkers, seniority equated to power. On one hand, it meant a wealth of combat experience and high skill proficiency; on the other hand, older walkers, much like ancient cultivators, had the time to study and master secret arts.
Typhoeus was precisely such a being. Rumor had it that shortly after becoming a Saint, he had been corrupted in a high-difficulty dungeon by a creation left behind by an indescribable entity. His body underwent a horrific mutation, transforming him into a demon, unable to return to human form ever again.
Hence, he wore black robes year-round and kept his face bound in bandages.
Typhoeus viewed that "corruption" as a divine blessing, doing everything in his power to develop his demonic form. To that end, he intentionally remained at the Saint stage, refusing under any circumstances to advance to Dominator.
With every Saint-stage dungeon he cleared, his demonic form grew stronger. No one knew how he managed it; they only knew he possessed a certain secret art allowing him to repeatedly clear Saint-stage dungeons and accumulate boundless foundation.
Such figures were extraordinarily rare—comparable to Fu Qingyang and the Demon Eye Heavenly King of the Second District. Once they advanced to Dominator, it was like a carp leaping over the Dragon Gate, rendering them vastly more powerful than ordinary Dominators.
Facing someone who could tilt the scales of battle single-handedly, the Saints of the orderly organizations showed their tension and vigilance plainly on their faces.
Typhoeus's vertical pupils swept over the Saints assembled before him. From beneath the bandages came a raspy voice:
"A bunch of useless trash. You are not my target. Tell Jumang to show himself—tonight, I'm sending him back to the Spirit Realm!"
Up on the tower, Zhang Yuanqing narrowed his eyes.
*Is the evil faction's trump card against Jumang... Typhoeus?*
Chapter 720