Hearing Typhoeus bring up Jumang, Riley Eugene realized that Jumang hadn't struck once from the very beginning. If Jumang had made a move just now, possessing two Dominator-grade items, he would have started a slaughter long ago.
Riley Eugene turned his head, looking in all directions, and shouted, "Where's Jumang? Where is he?"
Due to the contract, the Saints participating in the operation were unable to communicate tactical details after the fact; all deployments had been decided during the briefing.
According to the original plan, Jumang should have been wreaking absolute havoc by now.
The other Saints began looking around one after another, searching for Jumang's silhouette. In the chaos of the battle just now—a clash between titans—everyone had their hands full merely trying to survive and had found no time to spare a thought for him.
Only now did it dawn on them that Jumang hadn't appeared at all from start to finish.
Riley Eugene cast a glance at Demonic Progenitor Typhoeus and muttered, "He didn't get cold feet, did he?"
The peak Saints immediately caught his drift. The ordinary Saints thought it over for an extra second before grasping the profit-minded merchant's implication.
Typhoeus had specifically called out Jumang for a duel to the death. Knowing full well that his opponent possessed Dominator items, he still dared to act this arrogant, which meant he had come prepared.
In essence, Jumang was merely a level-six peak Beast King. His raw combat strength wasn't necessarily superior to anyone present, and eighty percent of his illustrious battle record relied on the Dominator items left behind by Yuanshi Tianzun.
So, after sensing Typhoeus's confidence, had he chickened out?
Or perhaps, realizing he would become the focal point of this battle of Saints, he had retreated beforehand and never even set foot in the port.
Regardless of which it was, it was disastrous for the orthodox faction.
If Jumang wasn't here, did that mean Typhoeus wouldn't unleash his trump cards to butcher the rest of them?
If their enemy deployed a Dominator-grade item, he could wipe out every orthodox Saint present in less than three minutes.
At that thought, the expressions of the orthodox faction's Saints grew even graver.
Just then, the eyelids of two male Saints beside Emily—a senior Saint of the Association of God of Beauty—suddenly grew heavy. They staggered a few paces, then collapsed with a thud and sank into deep slumber.
Their life auras vanished into nothingness. Just like that, they were dead.
This abrupt turn of events sent a jolt of shock through the orthodox Saints. To drag two ordinary Saints into a dream in an instant and kill them, the culprit had to be a level-six Saint.
Yet that Dream Master who had unleashed the mental strike earlier was visibly standing over there, having never entered a dream to kill.
While they were still gripped with shock and suspicion, the orthodox Saints saw a figure leap out of the dreamscape and join the Saints of the evil faction.
This person appeared around twenty-five, with a high-bridged nose and thick eyebrows. He was remarkably good-looking, but his expression and gaze were far too stern, frigid as a block of ice.
Another level-six Dream Master?
"Are you Sect Master Tongtian?" Mengmo sized up the stern young man with keen interest.
He had heard that a level-six Dream Master had emerged in the First District—decisive, ruthless, and exceptionally powerful. The evil faction of the Second District had specifically sent people to investigate in China and had questioned the Nihility Sect about this person.
The Nihility Sect had never heard of anyone named Sect Master Tongtian. To that end, they had deliberately retrieved the list of survivors from killing trials over the past ten years.
However, they had found no Spirit Realm ID by the name of Sect Master Tongtian. Suspecting it to be a pseudonym, they had relayed the truth back to the Hunters Guild.
Consequently, Mengmo was intensely curious about Sect Master Tongtian's true identity. No matter how many shapes an Illusionist could take, to become a peak Saint, one had to be a figure of renown.
He shouldn't have been an unknown.
Curiosity, amusement, and a faint hint of scrutiny... Zhang Yuanqing sensed Mengmo's emotions; the man made no effort to conceal them.
*This guy has to die, or else I'll become the center of attention. The more contact we have, the more troublesome it'll be!* Zhang Yuanqing reined in his emotions, not letting a shred of hostility or murderous intent leak out as he said coldly, "Villains die from talking too much. You bunch of babbling fools—if you still aren't going to make a move, are you expecting an Illusionist like me to charge the vanguard?"
Villains?
The surrounding black-robed figures cast hostile glares at Sect Master Tongtian.
"Evil faction" and "evil classes" were definitions thrust upon them by orthodox organizations; the evil classes themselves did not subscribe to them. They considered themselves free, following their desires and scorning all restraints.
Thus, Sect Master Tongtian's way of describing his own people was distinctly off.
"His head isn't right, don't mind him." Cocktail, whose wildly asymmetrical facial features were enough to drive someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder mad, pulled out a flat iron flask, took a sip, and shrugged. "He shares the same disposition as Demon Eye Heavenly King from your Second District's Soldier Master sect—committing the most insane acts while preaching the most high-sounding platitudes."
With Demon Eye Heavenly King as a point of reference, the black-robed figures understood at once, expressions of comprehension dawning on them.
Just then, the Stargazer among the crowd opened his starlit eyes, his gaze slowly sweeping over the companions beside him. After a few seconds, he spoke:
"The countenance of each of you remains the same as on the boat: dark clouds loom overhead, with a bloody calamity hidden beneath. There is danger, but none to the point of death. Well, so long as no Dominator intervenes, tonight's battle of Saints will hold no unforeseen variables. There really is no need to waste any more time. Let's begin."
The spirits of the evil faction's Saints lifted at once.
In contrast, Chazo and his companions, whose morale was already flagging, suffered another blow. A few Saints who valued their lives even began contemplating retreat.
Cocktail clicked his tongue repeatedly. "I really do like astromancy. Seeking good fortune and evading disaster—it lets me see my short-term fortunes. I wonder if I can buy a corresponding item for myself."
*Idiot. Astromancy should only be used as a reference—don't rely on that skill too heavily!* Atop the lighthouse, Zhang Yuanqing let out a cold sneer in his heart.
At this moment, half of his face was covered in black, vine-like patterns—the outward manifestation of the Companion Spirit Moon in use.
Zhang Yuanqing had discovered long ago that at the peak of level six, paired with the Companion Spirit Moon, he was equivalent to a Stargazer specializing in the power of Taiyin. In this state, his Night Roaming skill underwent a metamorphosis.
The core ability of Taiyin was not actually yin corpses or wraiths, but Concealment, and the precursor skill to Concealment was Night Roaming.
An ordinary Night Roaming skill could mask one's aura, movements, and physical form. When Zhang Yuanqing reached the peak of the Saint stage and combined it with the Companion Spirit Moon, he discovered that entering Night Roaming granted him the protection of Concealment.
Any divination, hexagram casting, or astrological deduction concerning him would yield no results whatsoever.
Only then had he realized how immense the advantages were of specializing in one of the sun, moon, or stars, and how critical the secret techniques of the Taiyi Sect were. While he had known before that a Night Wanderer had to choose among the three and specialize in the sun, moon, or stars, he had never gained any substantial realization until that point.
When he first obtained the Companion Spirit Moon, he had not yet reached the peak of level six; he had merely felt his lunar power surge and the number of yin corpses and spirit servants he could control increase.
He had assumed that the benefit of specializing in the sun, moon, or stars lay in boosting combat power. Only when he stepped into the peak of the Saint stage and attempted to wield the Companion Spirit Moon did he understand that he had underestimated it.
The benefit of specializing in Taiyin was that, while still in the Saint stage, he had unlocked Taiyin's core ability ahead of time—Concealment!
*Hmm, that Stargazer from Dark Night Rose also specializes in lunar power, but he won't know that Jumang is actually Yuanshi Tianzun, nor that I have the blessing of Concealment. That's why he sounds so certain.*
*Still, looking at it from another angle, did my deduction from last night also fail to hold water? Because I was likewise unable to calculate this level-six Stargazer specializing in Taiyin.*
Although possessing the Daluo Astrolabe meant his ability to read the stars and deduce fortunes was not inferior to a Stargazer specializing in stellar power, among the sun, moon, and stars, Taiyin suppressed the stars.
*It's still uncertain who will emerge victorious from this battle of Saints. I'll stick to my plan first...* As his thoughts flickered, Zhang Yuanqing heard Typhoeus's raspy voice drifting up from below:
"Since there are no issues, what are we waiting for?"
The black robe on Typhoeus shattered into fragments, revealing a hideous, terrifying physique. His appearance was like a demon straight out of Western mythology: his skin was dark red, devoid of any body fat, and every muscle fiber stood out with stark clarity.
His face bore little resemblance to a human's—grotesque and vicious, with scarlet slit pupils that were cold and cruel.
He possessed a pair of goat hooves, his lower legs long and slender, making his height far more exaggerated than that of an ordinary human.
Typhoeus's body continued to mutate. Curved goat horns sprouted from both sides of his cranium, and two bulges swelled on his back. With a squelch, the bulges burst open, unfurling into a pair of aggressive black membranous wings.
Typhoeus's scarlet pupils faded into an ashen white, and he abruptly shot forth two pale beams of light.
Taken off guard, an orthodox Saint was struck in the chest by the beams. With crisp cracking sounds, gray-white stone rapidly crystallized, turning him into a stone statue in the blink of an eye.
Like a laser projector, Typhoeus swiveled his head, firing petrifying rays at the orthodox Saints.
Chaos erupted instantly. The orthodox Saints scrambled for cover. The petrifying rays struck shipping containers, lampposts, the ground, and cranes, leaving behind splotches of gray-white stone.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Branching bolts of lightning descended one after another, blanketing the black-robed figures indiscriminately. The Lightning Mages among the Saints had struck back.
Accompanying the lightning strikes was a sky-blotting tempest of wind blades.
Now it was the black-robed figures' turn to scramble in disarray.
At the same time, the harbor waters churned with violent waves. Schools of swordfish leapt from the sea, launching a suicide attack from behind and crashing into the black-robed figures.
These swordfish were pitch-black, gleaming with a metallic luster under the moonlight—sea beasts painstakingly nurtured by the Sea God Church.
Cocktail took a stride forward to meet the swarm of swordfish head-on, distorting their trajectories. They whipped past the black-robed figures, some impaling themselves on shipping containers, others slamming dead onto the ground.
Both sides ducked behind containers, trading skill barrages across a distance of a dozen meters.
The Divine General of Envy, adept in close combat, braved the wind blades and lightning to advance. He drew a deep breath and exhaled a thick, gray-white mist that surged toward the orthodox Saints like a sea of clouds.
Seeing this, Typhoeus immediately spewed a plume of dark-green toxic smoke, mingling it with the dense mist as it rolled toward the enemy.
Whoosh!
North, Heaven's Punishment's level-six Wind Mage, swept past at low altitude, whipping up a ferocious gale that blew away both the thick mist and the toxic smoke, all while raining down a torrential squall of wind blades.
Wind Mages were the natural bane of Mist Lords!
"Damn it!"
The Divine General of Envy snatched a blood-red saber from his inventory and leapt into the air, hurling himself into the orthodox ranks.
Soon, however, he was beaten back by Chazo and Deep Sea Terror.
Knights and Sirens were equally skilled in melee combat.
Sect Master Tongtian and Mengmo lurked behind shipping containers, joining forces to stir the orthodox Saints' emotions, wearing down their fighting spirit while attempting to drag them into dreams.
Though progress was slow, the drowsiness induced in the process effectively degraded the Saints' combat effectiveness.
It was worth mentioning that a melee between Saints severely restricted the performance of most of their abilities.
For instance, an Illusionist's mental strike, an Alcoholic's drunken mist, an Aberrant's toxic smoke, and a Plague God's dehydration—these area-of-effect attacks did not distinguish friend from foe.
After two or three minutes of fierce fighting, several more Saints fell, and the orthodox side gradually felt the situation turning against them.
The only ranged attackers on their side were the Wind Mages and Lightning Mages, but the accuracy of the wind blades and lightning was too low; they were either blocked by containers or deflected off-target by Cocktail.
Conversely, though the evil faction's Stargazer had his spirit servants suppressed by lightning, and their mist and toxic smoke were countered, the Illusionists' dream intrusions and the Plague God's pathogens were nearly impossible to guard against.
Already, several Saints were coughing, their throats itching.
"If this keeps up, we're definitely going to lose!" the Siren Deep Sea Terror bellowed. "Let's fight them hand-to-hand! Jumang that coward deserted, so we'll force these evil-class bastards into the sea, and I'll send them back to the Spirit Realm!"
With that, he summoned his mount, leapt over the container, and charged toward the black-robed figures.
Chazo and the others blanched, but it was already too late to call him back.
The corners of Mengmo's mouth curled upward, and he barked, "Move!"
He had amplified Deep Sea Terror's pride. Ordinary Saints could not sway the course of the battle and were not his targets; only peak Saints were worthy of his intervention.
And among the orthodox faction's peak Saints, the Siren had the most glaring personality flaws, much like the Fire Mages of the Second District.
The Divine General of Envy, who excelled most in close combat, dashed toward Deep Sea Terror first. Typhoeus sprayed blue flames from his palm, condensing them into a massive blade. Running with blinding agility, he caught up from behind and overtook the Divine General.
The mount was charging too fast; rescue was already out of the question. Chazo stood leaning heavily on his sword, his face grim as he declared in a deep voice:
"The rule for this battle is: Close combat is forbidden!"
Cocktail let out a scoff, flicked another silver coin toward Chazo, and muttered an incantation.
The coin detonated with a pop.
The rule descended, yet none of the three were suppressed.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Branching lightning struck the Divine General of Envy and Typhoeus incessantly, blasting dark smoke from their bodies. Yet against their formidable physiques, even the lightning could do nothing.
At that moment, a shrill female voice cried out, "Stop fighting, please!"
The voice came from Emily, the senior Saint from the Association of God of Beauty. Unable to intervene in the skill barrages, this Desire-class user finally proved useful.
Her voice was laced with charm, sparking stray romantic impulses and stoking waves of lust, which inadvertently helped Deep Sea Terror regain a sliver of clarity.
A burst of starlight flared behind Emily. It was that Stargazer from Dark Night Rose. He did not attack her, unwilling to lay a hand on her.
Instead, he snatched a pink whistle from his inventory and gave it a soft blow.
The gentle whistle instantly drowned out Emily's plea, dispelling her charm.
Mengmo breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly reinforced Deep Sea Terror's pride.
The precious window for rescue slammed shut. Typhoeus fired two petrifying beams from his eyes. Deep Sea Terror ducked low, merging into his mount.
The petrifying beams left a chalky patch on the steed, failing to take full effect.
The petrifying rays held no destructive force; their sole function was to turn matter to stone.
Bang!
The steed slammed into the iron-and-bronze frame of the Divine General of Envy. The monstrous force knocked the Divine General flying backward, but in the instant he was hurled back, twisted runes surfaced in his eyes.
Deep Sea Terror's expression froze instantly, his pupils dilating.
Typhoeus's massive blue flame blade swept toward Deep Sea Terror's neck in a fluid motion, setting off a wild burst of sparks and blue fire.
A layer of illusory fish scales deflected the strike. As a senior Saint, he would not die so easily.
Squirt!
The blood-red saber came spinning through the air, plunging into Deep Sea Terror's chest.
The weapon of a Bewitching Demon was specialized in piercing armor.
Amidst the rushing sound of water, the blue flame blade cleanly cleaved through Deep Sea Terror's neck. The steed collapsed, dying in Deep Sea Terror's stead.
Immediately after, Typhoeus's eyes shot forth pale beams of light, striking Deep Sea Terror's legs. Gray-white stone rapidly crystallized, petrifying him in place.
Just then, a pillar of starlight rose behind Typhoeus, coalescing into a handsome young man holding a twisted scroll—none other than Jumang.
The moment the starlight flared, Typhoeus scoffed, seemingly prepared. He decisively pulled back his attack and lunged toward the left.
Simultaneously, a gunshot rang out in the distance.
A bullet struck the ground beside Jumang's feet and detonated. A deep, heavy nightfall rolled outward like a tidal wave, blanketing everything around it.
Deep Sea Terror and Jumang were engulfed by the night in an instant. After struggling for merely a fraction of a second, both tumbled to the ground with a thud, sinking into deep slumber.
Chapter 721