The cult leader caught Jin Guang’s arm, applying pressure with such devastating force that the martial artist winced in pain.
"Are you trying to tickle me?" he asked, his lips curling into a menacing smile. "Let me show you what real strength is."
The pressure intensified, crushing down on Jin Guang’s arm. The cult leader’s smile stretched wider across his face as he applied more force, savoring the moment of dominance. But suddenly, he felt something unexpected—a strange crunching sensation beneath his fingers.
"Huh?" Confusion flickered across his features as he wondered if Jin Guang was truly that fragile. Glancing down, he discovered not an arm in his grasp, but a massive wooden log. Whirling around, his eyes locked with Huan Meng of the Illusory Valley, with Jin Guang standing unharmed beside her.
Their gazes met for just a heartbeat before both figures dissolved into wisps of smoke, vanishing into the ether.
The cult leader pivoted instantly, spotting Jin Guang charging toward him again, fist raised for another devastating blow. With confidence, he extended his hand, ready to catch what he assumed would be another predictable attack. Instead, he felt the unmistakable sensation of steel slicing through flesh. The smoke surrounding his opponent dispersed, revealing not Jin Guang, but An Jing of the Whispering Shadow Sect wielding a blade that had already drawn blood. Before he could retaliate, An Jing too dissipated into smoke, leaving only the sting of the wound behind.
The cult leader’s expression hardened, his earlier amusement completely evaporated. Scanning his surroundings with newfound wariness, he located four of the sect masters but couldn’t find Huan Meng among them. The realization struck him, that woman was the most dangerous of all. With his divine sense suppressed, she was exploiting his vulnerability through masterful illusions. Though physically the weakest of the group, she had become his most immediate threat. Looking at the others, he could no longer trust his own perception of who was real and who was merely another deception.
His face finally settled into seriousness as he made a decision. No more games. No more toying with his opponents. If he continued underestimating them, he might not survive this encounter.
[That Huan Meng is quite impressive, taking advantage of the situation like this,] the Empress observed within Li Yao’s consciousness.
"Hmph!" Li Yao scoffed dismissively, her thoughts darkening with suspicion. Huan Meng was dangerous with those illusion techniques. Didn’t female demons use such tricks to entrap men? If she really—
[Not everyone is out to get you,] the Empress interjected firmly, deciding to interrupt before Li Yao’s paranoia spiraled further out of control. [Just focus on the fight.]
Despite her words, the Empress herself felt uneasy. She was taking an enormous gamble. With her extraordinary divine sense, there was no way she hadn’t noticed Gao Aotian’s soul clone infiltrating the sect. But revealing this to Li Yao would cause the young woman to abandon the battle plan, potentially ruining everything they’d worked for.
She was betting on Xiang Yu’s resourcefulness. If he possessed another talisman like the one he’d given Li Yao, and if he managed to use it against the soul clone, it would disorient the cult leader’s main body momentarily—creating the perfect opportunity to strike with Li Yao’s talisman.
The Empress knew the stakes. If Xiang Yu died, Li Yao would never forgive her. But she had to take this risk. Xiang Yu had proven himself exceptionally clever; surely he wouldn’t be defeated so easily. At least, that’s what she desperately hoped.
He spun to find Bai Wu’s sword descending toward his neck, only for it too to disperse upon contact. Everywhere he turned, phantom attackers materialized and vanished. Wang Jian appeared to his left, An Jing to his right, each attack forcing him to defend before revealing itself as another deception.
Through the chaos, real attacks landed intermittently—a slash across his back from An Jing’s shadow-wreathed blade, a thunderous punch to his kidney from Jin Guang. Each blow was precisely timed, striking when his attention was diverted by Huan Meng’s illusions.
The real Huan Meng stood at the periphery, her hands weaving complex patterns as she maintained her illusions. Beneath her concentrated expression, exhaustion was beginning to show. She hadn’t sustained such complex illusions against such an opponent before.
Gao Aotian, despite his overwhelming power, found himself increasingly frustrated. He unleashed a devastating barrage of energy strikes that leveled the surrounding landscape, but the sect masters moved through the destruction, their movements coordinated by Huan Meng’s guidance. Where one appeared vulnerable, another would intervene. When he pressed an advantage against Wang Jian, An Jing’s shadow techniques would force him to abandon his assault.
After nearly an hour of continuous battle, the cult leader’s patience wore thin. Blood trickled from several wounds on his body—none serious individually, but their cumulative effect was beginning to slow him down. Worse, he couldn’t determine which opponent was real at any given moment, thanks to Huan Meng’s relentless illusions.
"This cannot continue," he thought, feeling the fatigue creeping into his limbs. He needed to find a way...
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