Si Zhijie and Si Zhiheng stared at Wang Hao, their eyes brimming with grief and icy hatred. They knew their family was on the brink of annihilation.

Si Zhijie’s hands blurred as he wove hand seals. Green light erupted from his palms, coalescing into a colossal dragon composed entirely of poisonous miasma. With a silent roar, the toxic construct swept toward Wang Hao.

“Hmph.”

Wang Hao didn’t flinch. He flicked his wrist, releasing a dragon of searing crimson fire.

The two elemental beasts collided in mid-air. Flames met poison, producing a violent hissing sound as the intense heat incinerated the toxin.

“Shields up! Take your detox pills!” Wang Longyou shouted.

The cultivators of the Wang and Li coalition hurriedly erected protective barriers and swallowed Spirit Pills, wary of the leaking fumes. Even a whiff of that green mist could rot their lungs.

Si Zhiheng, desperate to turn the tide, slapped two second-grade talismans onto the wind. They instantly combusted, transforming into a torrential rain of fire that crashed down upon the alliance. Simultaneously, Si Zhijie scattered a handful of talismans, unleashing a chaotic barrage of elemental spells that smashed toward them with menacing momentum.

“Scatter!” Wang Hao commanded, his voice calm but piercing.

Green light flashed beneath his feet. He surged to the side, his momentum carrying several nearby clansmen out of the kill zone. Clumping together now would only make them easy targets for area-of-effect spells.

BOOM!

A deafening roar shook the earth. Colorful explosions engulfed the hilltop where they had stood mere seconds ago. The shockwaves shattered boulders and tore up the soil, but hit nothing but empty air. A few stray spells chased after the scattering cultivators, but without the casters’ focused control, they lacked follow-up power and were easily batted aside.

With the formation broken, the battlefield split.

Si Zhijie let out a feral roar and lunged at Li Yaozu’s group. The frantic patriarch unleashed a storm of attacks, forcing Li Yaozu and his two partners to join forces just to hold their ground.

Meanwhile, Si Zhiheng locked his cold, sinister gaze onto Wang Hao.

He knew his cultivation base was inferior to the Wang family patriarch, but he was cornered. A trapped beast fights the hardest. Si Zhijie had created this one-on-one opportunity for him, and he intended to seize it with his life.

“You’ll regret this,” Si Zhiheng spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Releasing your strongest spirit beasts to chase my juniors… that was your fatal mistake!”

He slapped the Spirit Beast Bag at his waist.

A buzzing drone filled the air as a brown centipede, nearly thirty feet long, shot out. It was a nightmare made flesh—each of its hundred legs was adorned with a pair of small, vibrating wings, allowing it to slither through the air as easily as the earth. Its carapace shimmered with an eerie, toxic sheen, and its aura firmly radiated the pressure of a Mid-Rank Second Grade beast.

“Is that right?” Wang Hao chuckled, his expression unbothered. “What makes you think I’m out of pets?”

He tapped the bag at his own waist.

With a soft flutter, two Phantom Moon Butterflies emerged, their large, iridescent wings scattering scales of light.

“Keep that insect busy,” Wang Hao ordered.

Ideally, the Phantom Moon Butterflies—creatures of illusion and support—should be used for ambushes. Revealing them openly diminished their effect. However, Wang Hao’s meridians were still aching from his previous battle with the Gu family. He couldn’t risk a direct confrontation without support. He opted for the safer play, counting on Wang Longyou’s group to finish their fight and reinforce him.

Si Zhiheng’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You… you have more?”

For a Foundation Establishment cultivator to raise a single spirit beast was a luxury. Two was a sign of immense wealth. But four? That was unheard of. The resources required to feed four Second Grade beasts rivaled the upkeep of an entire clan!

“It doesn’t matter,” Si Zhiheng growled, forcing down his shock. “Beasts or not, you die today!”

He had already accepted his death. His only goal now was to drag Wang Hao down to hell with him.

A scarlet flying sword materialized in his grip—the Red Light Sword.

It was a Mid-Grade Spirit Weapon he had purchased for three thousand Spirit Stones, infused with the soul of a Second Grade Fire Fox. It pulsed with violent heat.

Si Zhiheng flourished the blade. A cluster of crimson fireballs erupted from the tip, hovering around him like loyal soldiers. He spun the sword again and again, the air distorting from the heat. Within moments, hundreds of fireballs, each the size of a water vat, filled the sky behind him.

“Go!”

With a slash of his sword, the armada of fireballs screamed toward Wang Hao.

“Playing with fire in front of me?” Wang Hao raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

If Si Zhiheng had stuck to poison, it might have been troublesome. But fire? Wang Hao lived and breathed fire.

He casually slapped out a stack of Chain Fireball Talismans. They ignited in mid-air, streaming forward to intercept the incoming barrage.

BOOM!

The sky lit up as the two waves of flame collided. However, Si Zhiheng’s attack, fueled by the Spirit Weapon and desperate resolve, overpowered the talismans. The residual fireballs punched through the smoke, carrying scorching heat straight for Wang Hao’s face.

Wang Hao’s eyes narrowed in surprise. Green light flashed at his feet as he executed a rapid retreat.

Just a Mid-Grade Spirit Weapon… how is the firepower this intense?

He realized he had been too arrogant. He summoned the Chaos Earth Seal, letting the heavy stamp float defensively before him. Simultaneously, the Child-Mother Green Light Sword appeared in his hand. He slashed out, creating a net of sword shadows that finally shredded the remaining fireballs into sparks.

He was safe, but he had lost the exchange. Si Zhiheng had used one move; Wang Hao had needed two to neutralize it.

“Hmph.” Si Zhiheng didn’t give him a moment to breathe. The Red Light Sword danced again, sending another howling wave of flame toward his opponent.

Bang!

A fireball slipped past Wang Hao’s guard, detonating against his chest. Roaring flames swallowed him whole.

Si Zhiheng’s eyes lit up, but his hope was short-lived. As the fire dissipated, Wang Hao stood unharmed, a thin, translucent barrier of red light shimmering over his skin. The Red Lotus Fire protected its master.

Si Zhiheng’s face twisted. He reached into his robe and pulled out a bead that crackled with blue arcs of electricity.

The Heavenly Thunder Bead.

It was a consumable treasure he had obtained by sheer luck. A single use item with the destructive power of a Late Foundation Establishment cultivator’s full-strength strike. It was worth nearly as much as a Top-Grade Spirit Weapon. Using it made his heart bleed, but there was no choice.

Time was not on his side. He had to kill Wang Hao instantly and join Si Zhijie, or they would both perish.

“Die!”

Si Zhiheng flicked his wrist. The bead shot forward.

It was small, silent, and unassuming—the perfect assassin’s weapon.

But Wang Hao had seen Lei Liheng use one before. The moment the bead appeared, his pupils constricted to pinpoints.

Danger!

There was no time to dodge; the blast radius would be too large.

Wang Hao roared, his True Essence surging like a tsunami. He commanded the Chaos Earth Seal to hover directly over his head, projecting a curtain of yellow light. Still not feeling secure, he summoned the Cloud Wave Shield from his Storage Bag—an artifact that had been gathering dust for years.

The shield expanded in the wind, forming the outermost layer of defense.

The Chaos Earth Seal had infinite growth potential; he couldn’t risk it breaking. The Cloud Wave Shield, merely a Top-Grade Magical Artifact, was expendable.

The Heavenly Thunder Bead struck.

KABOOM!

It was as if a miniature sun had been born.

A blinding golden flash erased the world, followed instantly by a cataclysmic shockwave. A mushroom cloud rose hundreds of feet into the air, turning the surrounding hundred zhang into a hellscape of flying sand and shattered stone.

Inside the blast, Wang Hao felt like he was being struck by a celestial hammer.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The pressure was relentless. The Cloud Wave Shield groaned under the strain.

If Wang Hao were at his peak, he could have weathered this with grit. But his meridians were still fragile from the self-detonation of the Gu family patriarch. The violent tremors aggravated his internal injuries.

His face flushed an unhealthy red. Blood rose in his throat.

Si Zhiheng sneered at the mushroom cloud. He didn’t stop. He channeled his remaining energy into the Red Light Sword, firing volley after volley of fireballs into the smoke, targeting the center of the explosion.

Explosions bloomed against Wang Hao’s shield, painting the dust cloud with brilliant, deadly colors.

Meanwhile, high above the chaos, the aerial battle raged.

The Flying Centipede, a poison-attribute beast, found itself frustrated. The Phantom Moon Butterflies refused to engage directly. They wove through the air, releasing hallucinogenic scales and dense mist, hiding their presence while launching sporadic, stinging attacks.

The centipede hissed and snapped at empty air, growing more agitated by the second. It was stronger, but it was fighting shadows.