The woman staggered back, her mind spiraling in chaos as the monstrous shadow of Taotie lood overhead.
Her voice trembled with disbelief, tinged with sheer terror. “This is impossible! A re third-tier psychic—how can you summon sothing like this? Even fourth-tiers can't do that.”
Fang Xiu’s dark chuckle rumbled in response, dripping with condescension. “It's the kind of you that, low lives like you would never understand.” His crimson eye blazed brighter, his words as cold as death itself.
“Devour them, Taotie.”
At his command, Taotie’s decaying, grotesque hand stretched forth, an overwhelming mass of flesh and corruption that eclipsed the sky. It slamd downward with crushing intent, aiming to kill both Tengu and Wine Guard in one fell swoop.
The two refused to go down quietly. They unleashed their ultimate abilities in a desperate counterattack.
"Crowstorm!" Tengu screeched, his cry splitting the air as he unleashed a torrent of black feathers.
Each feather transford into a shadowy crow, the swarm diving toward Taotie’s hand in a chaotic, suicidal frenzy.
"Gourd Smash!" The Wine Guard roared, his massive body swelling with power as he hurled his colossal gourd like a cannonball.
The weapon shot through the air, hurtling toward Taotie with imnse force.
Their combined assault struck Taotie’s hand head-on, shredding chunks of its grotesque flesh and spraying the battlefield with blood and rotting at.
For a brief mont, hope flickered. The attacks had landed.
But then, the impossible unfolded.
The energy behind their attacks—the force, the impact—was absorbed into Taotie’s hand. The monstrous flesh began to writhe and regenerate, the gaping wounds sealing shut as though they had never existed.
It was futile.
Taotie’s form had never relied on defense; its decaying body was weak, a feast for even the lowest specters. But its true power lay in its insatiable hunger—it could devour anything, physical or intangible, and use it to fuel itself.
Ignoring their desperate resistance, Taotie’s massive hand surged forward and clenched around Tengu and Wine Guard. The two thrashed violently in its grip, their struggles growing weaker with each passing second.
Effortlessly, Taotie lifted them high into the air before hurling them into its abyssal maw.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
The grotesque sound of grinding teeth echoed through the air, a sickening symphony of destruction.
Tengu and Wine Guard were no more.
PFFT!
The robed woman staggered, coughing up blood as the psychic backlash from the destruction of her summons ripped through her mind. She trembled violently, barely able to stay upright.
“This… this is hopeless!” she gasped, panic clawing at her voice. “We can’t fight him! We need to—”
Her words died in her throat as she realized sothing horrifying.
Gongben Teng’er was gone.
He had vanished without a word, abandoning her entirely. The man had seen the writing on the wall and fled, leaving her to face Fang Xiu and Taotie alone.
For a brief mont, fury overca her terror. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. But there was no ti for curses or anger—her survival instincts scread at her to run.
Without hesitation, she turned and bolted, her feet pounding against the ground as she raced away from the scene of devastation.
Her mind reeled, unable to comprehend the absurdity of what had just happened. Two fourth-tier psychics, elite warriors of Isleland, utterly crushed by a single third-tier psychic. It defied all logic, all reason.
But to Fang Xiu, it was nothing extraordinary.
“They’re too weak,” he muttered, his tone laced with disinterest. To him, these so-called elites were no more than amateurs—flies compared to the monstrous strength of the captains from headquarters.
Fang Xiu knew his own strength well. While his base power as a third-tier psychic was limited, the abilities he gained from Pain Manifestation and the connection to Specter Gods elevated him far beyond his peers.
Every death at the hands of the Specter God had honed him, forged him into soone who could transcend his limits. Entities like Taotie weren’t re tools; they were extensions of the boundless power he could wield.
Even so, Fang Xiu understood the cost of such strength.
Summoning a projection of the Specter God consud an imnse amount of Spiritual Energy. He could manage one such summon per battle, and even then, it would only remain temporarily. Beyond that, his reserves would be depleted.
Moreover, psychic battles weren’t about raw strength alone. Victory often depended on strategy, counters, and exploiting weaknesses. Against truly skilled opponents, even Taotie might struggle.
But these Isleland psychics? They were four-tiers, but they hadn't been it for long.
Fang Xiu speculated that the disparity in strength between psychics from Huaxia and Isleland likely stemd from population differences. After all, Specters existed to devour humans. The greater the population density, the greater the number of Specters that would erge.
Though Isleland had a high population density, its overall population paled in comparison to Huaxia. If one Specter were drawn to every ten thousand people, then the number of Specters in Huaxia would be at least ten tis that of Isleland.
And where there were more Specters, psychics inevitably grew stronger, simply by surviving in harsher conditions and facing more powerful enemies.
As Fang Xiu watched the woman fleeing, he calmly withdrew the projections of "wife" and Taotie with a single thought.
For now, his strength wasn’t enough to sustain the two entities for long periods. Even in this brief encounter, more than half of his Spiritual Energy had been consud.
Still, the remaining energy was more than sufficient to deal with the woman. Without her summons, a summoner was inherently weak.
As for Gongben Teng’er, Fang Xiu had noted his extraordinary sensitivity to danger. The mont Taotie appeared, Gongben Teng’er had vanished without a trace, fleeing without so much as a word of warning to his companion.
The robed woman sprinted across the ground, her face pale with panic, while Fang Xiu soared through the sky, his black fla wings propelling him forward with ease.
He had gleaned so inspiration from the Tengu’s earlier attack and figured this would be a good opportunity to experint.
With a thought, Fang Xiu’s black fla wings flared violently. The flas splintered, scattering into tens of thousands of fiery fragnts that shot outward. The fragnts coalesced into black fla ravens, their bodies wreathed in ghostly fire.
The flock of fla ravens cawed and shrieked, their movents eerily lifelike as they flapped their wings and sward toward the woman in a chaotic storm.
The woman glanced behind her and, upon seeing the sea of black ravens descending upon her, her face drained of color. Fear overtook her as she desperately summoned her final familiar—the bandaged humanoid that had earlier healed Gongben Teng’er.
The bandaged monster materialized in front of her, positioning itself to block the incoming assault. The bandages on its body unraveled and shot out like whips, entangling countless fla ravens in an attempt to smother them.
But the black fla ravens were no ordinary fire. They were imbued with the power of the Genesis Mask, flas that could burn Spiritual Energy itself.
All abilities, no matter how strange or intricate, ultimately relied on Spiritual Energy. Flas that burned Spiritual Energy directly attacked the foundation of all powers.
Though the bandaged monster was powerful, it was nothing more than a construct born of Spiritual Energy. The mont the black flas latched onto the bandages, they ignited and spread rapidly, consuming the monster’s body in a matter of seconds.
The creature flailed helplessly, engulfed in flas, before disintegrating into ash.
As the monster perished, the woman suffered the psychic backlash imdiately. She coughed up a mouthful of blood and collapsed to the ground, her body trembling as she struggled to move.
Fang Xiu called back the black fla ravens with a wave of his hand, nodding in satisfaction.
This technique was proving far more useful than simply spraying flas. The ravens’ ability to dive, turn, and swarm gave them unparalleled flexibility in combat.
However, the na “Crowstorm” felt unworthy of the power the technique displayed. He pondered for a mont before murmuring to himself.
“Raven Death.”
The na resonated with him. The flas, shaped like ravens, would bring his enemies a death sentence. It was fitting.
With his decision made, Fang Xiu ca down gracefully from the sky. As his feet touched the ground, the black fla wings dissipated in an instant, all the energy flowing back into the Genesis Mask on his face.
The mask shimred briefly before vanishing entirely, revealing Fang Xiu’s pale, composed face. His silver hair receded back to its original short, jet-black style, and his mismatched eyes—one crimson, one black—returned to their natural state.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
His footsteps echoed as he calmly walked toward the woman, who lay on the ground, grievously wounded.
Her face was deathly pale, blood soaking the front of her robe. The dark red stain only seed to accentuate her otherwise delicate figure.
Her chest, in particular, stood out—full and prominent, an almost jarring contrast to her doll face. The odd combination created an unsettling yet strangely captivating sense of beauty.
Translator's note: New ability gained!
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