Si Zhiheng’s gaze drifted toward the aerial battle. He intended to lend his spirit beast a hand and slaughter Wang Hao’s butterflies. Once Wang Hao’s pets were dead, even if the man himself escaped the explosion, he would face a hopeless two-against-one scenario.

But the moment his attention shifted, a figure burst from the billowing mushroom cloud.

The Heavenly Thunder Bead was devastating, but its power was instantaneous, not sustained. Wang Hao was protected by two Top-Grade Spirit Weapons. As long as his Spiritual Qi held out, his defense was impregnable.

Though the residual fireballs were troublesome, Wang Hao’s Red Lotus True Fire formed a second skin around him, neutralizing the heat effortlessly.

Si Zhiheng had looked away for a split second, and Wang Hao seized that fatal opening.

Wang Hao swallowed a Qi-Returning Pill mid-stride. His body blurred as he activated the Phantom Wood Shadow Art. Three identical figures split from his form, driving thousands of sword lights toward Si Zhiheng.

Si Zhiheng panicked, throwing up a hasty defense against the incoming barrage.

He guessed wrong.

Wang Hao’s true body hadn’t targeted him at all. He had lunged straight for the centipede.

A mournful, ear-piercing screech tore through the air. A flash of sword light, and the massive Hundred-Footed Centipede was cleaved cleanly in two.

Si Zhiheng watched the bisected corpse fall, his expression a mask of shock and fury. That centipede was his lifeline. He had poured his fortune into raising it. It was the reason he could hunt powerful beasts and explore dangerous ruins; it was the source of his wealth.

And now, Wang Hao had butchered it like common livestock.

“Ahhh! You brat! I’ll make you pay for my beast with your life!”

A golden flame suddenly ignited in Si Zhiheng’s palm.

He twisted his fingers into a bizarre seal. The golden fire roared, twisting and shifting until it took the form of a Golden Fire Eagle. With a piercing cry, the construct spread its wings and dove toward Wang Hao.

Wherever the eagle passed, the air shimmered and warped. The temperature spiked to hellish levels instantly.

“Die! Die for me!” Si Zhiheng screamed, his eyes bloodshot with madness.

Wang Hao froze. A primal dread seized his heart, a sensation no less terrifying than the moment the Gu family cultivator had self-destructed.

What is that? Why does it terrify me?

The pressure was suffocating. It felt less like a technique and more like facing a natural disaster.

Wang Hao frantically racked his brain, cross-referencing ancient texts. His eyes widened. It was likely a “Heaven and Earth Spirit Fire.” Only a flame born from the world itself could radiate such oppressive majesty. Legend had it that older, more potent Spirit Fires could even develop sentience, making them deadlier than demon beasts.

No wonder his earlier fireballs punched above their weight class!

Wang Hao didn’t hesitate. He tossed out two Ice Talismans.

A massive wall of ice, several feet thick, materialized to block the path. But the moment the Golden Fire Eagle touched it, the ice didn’t just melt—it vanished. The wall sublimated into a burst of white steam instantly, and the eagle shot through the vapor without slowing down, straight for Wang Hao’s throat.

Wang Hao’s expression darkened. He backpedaled furiously, flinging a stream of water and ice talismans to buy distance.

Boom! Boom!

It was futile. The ice walls dissolved into puddles, and summoned water dragons evaporated before they could even touch the bird. The attacks didn’t leave a scratch.

The Fire Eagle’s momentum was barely dampened.

Wang Hao was dumbfounded. His own Red Lotus True Fire was formidable, but compared to this Heaven and Earth Spirit Fire, the gap was despairing. It was like comparing a toddler to a four-hundred-pound strongman—one lived in the sky, while the other crawled in the dirt.

Si Zhiheng saw Wang Hao’s frantic retreat and laughed coldly. “Die! With your mediocre tricks, don’t even dream of blocking my True Sun Flame!”

“Looks like I have no choice,” Wang Hao sighed, his face grim.

He really didn’t want to use the Spirit-Splitting Cone. His injuries from the previous battle hadn’t healed. Forcing a mental attack now would damage him, even if he succeeded.

But the True Sun Flame left him no options. He couldn’t tank it physically; he had to sever the control.

Wang Hao continued to retreat, throwing out distraction spells to mask his intent.

Si Zhiheng surged forward to press his advantage. Suddenly, his body seized.

An invisible spike rammed into his brain.

“Gah!”

Si Zhiheng grabbed his head, stumbling as blinding pain nearly dropped him to his knees.

However, he managed to stay upright. He glared at Wang Hao with fear and hatred, pulling a charred talisman from his robe.

“A Divine Consciousness attack… Hmph. Lucky for me, I found a talisman years ago specifically to guard against such underhanded tricks. Otherwise, you might have actually killed me.”

Wang Hao smiled bitterly. He had feared the enemy might have a countermeasure, and his luck was rotten. The Spirit-Splitting Cone had failed to deliver a fatal blow. Worse, the backlash hammered Wang Hao’s own mind, dimming his senses and reducing his combat effectiveness by another thirty percent.

But Si Zhiheng wasn’t unscathed.

The attack had done one crucial thing: it severed the mental link between Si Zhiheng and the True Sun Flame.

The Golden Fire Eagle stopped its pursuit. It hovered in mid-air, screeching and thrashing as it sensed its freedom. Refining a Heaven and Earth Spirit Fire was a battle of wills; if the master’s control wavered, the fire would rebel.

Si Zhiheng realized the danger instantly. He frantically formed hand seals, sweat dripping from his forehead as he tried to reassert dominance. The eagle contorted in pain, but Si Zhiheng’s damaged mind couldn’t clamp down the leash.

Now!

Wang Hao ignored the splitting headache and barked a command to his Phantom Moon Butterflies.

The two butterflies fluttered high, their wings glowing as they fired beams of hallucinogenic light at the distracted cultivator.

Si Zhiheng didn’t dare ignore them. He dodged erratically, throwing out a handful of talismans that morphed into streaks of light to intercept the insects.

The Phantom Moon Butterflies were fragile. Wang Hao couldn’t let them take a hit. At his command, they spewed a dense fog and vanished from sight.

Simultaneously, Wang Hao activated a defensive talisman to block Si Zhiheng’s counter-fire.

This was the weakness of the butterflies: potent abilities, but slow attacks and paper-thin defense. If exposed, they were easy prey.

Si Zhiheng looked anxious. His hands were a blur of motion as he fought a tug-of-war with his own flame, but Wang Hao refused to give him a moment of peace.

Hidden in the mist, the butterflies struck again from blind angles. Si Zhiheng was forced to break his concentration to dodge the hallucinogenic beams. If even one hit him, it was game over.

Wang Hao seized the respite to swallow a handful of healing pills, stabilizing his chaotic internal energy.

He didn’t dare use the Chaos Earth Seal again; his mental energy was too depleted to control such a heavy artifact.

Fortunately, he was rich in talismans.

He slapped a Hundred Blades Talisman into the air. Instantly, hundreds of three-foot spiritual blades materialized, forming a shimmering steel rain that poured down on Si Zhiheng.

Si Zhiheng cursed and summoned a small cyan shield.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The blades hammered against the shield like hail on a tin roof.

Si Zhiheng’s face was ugly to behold. He had thought the Spirit Fire would be a checkmate, but Wang Hao’s mental attack had flipped the board. Although his mental injury was minor compared to Wang Hao’s backlash, losing the fire was catastrophic.

He could stall, but what about Si Zhijie? If the Patriarch fell, Si Zhiheng was a dead man walking.

The reality was grim. He was only at the Early Foundation Establishment stage, a full tier below Wang Hao. In terms of combat experience, they were evenly matched—six of one, half a dozen of the other. If Wang Hao hadn’t been injured beforehand, Si Zhiheng would have been dead ten times over.

“I have to end this,” Si Zhiheng gritted his teeth.

He pulled out a golden talisman that pulsed with terrifying energy. It was one of his last Second-Grade talismans.

He hurled it at Wang Hao.

Wang Hao’s Clear Source Boots flared with light. He teleported sideways just as he slapped several Earth Wall Talismans onto the ground.

A massive wall of yellow earth roared out of the soil, shielding him.

BOOM!

A blinding golden light detonated against the wall. The earth barrier shattered into dust, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield.

Several golden spirit swords pierced through the debris, hunting for blood. But after breaking the wall, their momentum was spent. Wang Hao calmly fired a few fireballs, shattering the weakened blades into sparks.