Evil Demon Forest.
Holy Spirit Cult Headquarters.
Council Hall.
"Disciple, are you ready?"
"This time, I have agreed to your request and summoned some elders to witness your match against Yan Feng."
Zhongli Wu sat in the main seat, speaking solemnly to Jiang Jue, who stood before him.
"Rest assured, Master. Your disciple has been fully prepared for this moment. Today, let me sharpen my edge!"
Jiang Jue's expression was as calm as still water, his eyes flickering with light, filled with confidence.
"Good!"
"What are your chances?"
"Seven to three in my favor."
Jiang Jue spoke with a meaningful tone.
"Then let's go."
Black mist rose from Zhongli Wu's body as he instantly appeared beside Jiang Jue, grabbed him, and vanished from the hall.
At the central platform of the Holy Spirit Cult, more than twenty people had already gathered in wait.
Some wore black robes embroidered with blood-red patterns, while others wore black robes adorned with golden embroidery. Among them were a few young men, looking slightly nervous.
"Hey, do you think the Holy Son will win this match?"
"I'm not 'hey,' my name is Yue Sheng. Of course, if you don't mind, you can call me 'Big Brother.' I can handle that."
The Masked Douluo replied to the person next to him.
"You—Masked, you!"
The Cloudy Night Douluo was momentarily furious, his face darkening as he chose to ignore the Masked Douluo.
"Hey! Fourth Brother, do you think your disciple can defeat the Holy Son?"
The Masked Douluo turned and asked an elderly man who was holding a sword.
"This... I do not know. We will only find out after the battle."
The old man opened his eyes, a sharp sword-like gleam flashing within his cloudy pupils.
"Sigh, Fourth Brother, your sword keeps growing stronger."
The Masked Douluo felt a twinge of unease and quickly changed the topic.
The one called Fourth Brother was none other than the Holy Spirit Cult's Fourth Elder, titled Nether Douluo. His martial soul was the Nether Sword, and his cultivation had reached Rank 93.
The Nether Sword—purely offensive, no defense.
"If you ate fewer brains and trained more, perhaps you could rid yourself of the title of the weakest Titled Douluo in the cult."
Nether Douluo cast a cold glance at the Masked Douluo and said indifferently.
"How is that possible?! Brains taste so good—how could I not eat them?"
The Masked Douluo shook his head vigorously before walking away toward the Thunder Nether Douluo.
The other elders were engaged in discussions as well, mainly debating whether Jiang Jue, as a Soul Ancestor, could defy the odds and defeat a Soul King.
After all, Jiang Jue and Yan Feng were more than ten levels apart, a whole major rank, and Yan Feng's martial soul was no weakling either.
"Shh! The Cult Master is here!"
The scene fell silent as two figures appeared in the sky—Zhongli Wu and Jiang Jue.
Zhongli Wu led Jiang Jue to the center of the platform, scanning the surroundings.
"Greetings, Cult Master!"
"Greetings, Holy Son!"
Everyone shouted in unison, bowing respectfully.
"Hahaha, no need for formalities—rise."
With a wave of Zhongli Wu's hand, a faint fluctuation of soul power lifted everyone back up.
"The Cult Master's cultivation has advanced even further."
This thought appeared in the minds of all the elders.
"Let's not waste words. I gathered you all here to witness a duel between our cult's two greatest talents. Now, let's begin."
As Zhongli Wu's voice fell, the entire platform trembled. From its center, a circular stage with a hundred-meter radius rose into the air, elevating twenty meters above the ground.
"Go now, disciple."
Zhongli Wu patted Jiang Jue's shoulder, his gaze filled with encouragement.
"Yes, Master!"
Jiang Jue responded respectfully.
Soul power surged as black mist emerged around him. Like walking on an invisible staircase, he steadily ascended to the elevated platform—an indication of precise soul power control.
"Boss Yan, it's your turn."
Among the group of young men, the one standing in the center nodded.
The back of his robe tore apart as a pair of pale, skeletal wings unfurled, carrying him into the air toward the platform.
Jiang Jue lowered his eyes, looking at the scene below, feeling a bit reflective.
"It seems I have been away from the people… no, from the cult for too long. The core positions of the new generation in the Holy Spirit Cult have been shifting."
"But after today, that will no longer be the case."
The young men below were the new generation of the Holy Spirit Cult. They were two to three years older than Jiang Jue, yet their strengths had nearly reached the Soul King level. Among them, aside from Yan Feng, one even had a cultivation of Rank 53—Lu Genggeng.
"Greetings, Holy Son!"
Yan Feng landed on the platform, retracted his wings, and saluted Jiang Jue.
Yan Feng was tall and imposing, his aura cold. Among the new generation, his appearance was considered outstanding—almost human-like...
"No need for formalities. Just use your full strength in battle."
Jiang Jue said indifferently, but his gaze toward Yan Feng flickered with an icy sharpness.
Though he had been away from the cult, he still had access to its internal reports. This Yan Feng had been trying to form factions within the Holy Spirit Cult.
That must be crushed today!
"Rise into the air!"
Zhongli Wu, seeing that both were ready, commanded. All the elders flew into the sky, watching the battle from above.
The younger members of the Holy Spirit Cult were also lifted into the air by the elders.
"Begin!"
At Zhongli Wu's order, Jiang Jue and Yan Feng simultaneously summoned their martial souls.
Jiang Jue raised his left hand, summoning the Soul Refining Banner. A gray mist enveloped him as his eyes turned an emotionless, deathly gray.
A pitch-black crow flew out from the banner, perching on Jiang Jue's shoulder.
At the same time, the blood-red patterns on the Soul Refining Banner wriggled, and a creature, much smaller than the Soul-Devouring Raven but exuding an even stronger aura of death, emerged.
It landed gently on Jiang Jue's slender fingers—a cicada with six ferocious ghostly faces and blood-red gemstone-like eyes!
A crimson glow radiated from its body, making the air feel heavier. Just one glance at it induced a sense of trance, as if staring longer would lead one into an illusion.
Yellow! Purple! Purple! Black!
Four soul rings emerged in sequence. When the fourth, a ten-thousand-year ring, appeared, Jiang Jue's aura reached its peak.
Waves of formidable soul power spread outward, sweeping over everything.
At this moment, he was the undisputed ruler of the battlefield!
A trace of solemnity flashed in Yan Feng's eyes. He had initially thought that despite Jiang Jue's extraordinary talent, the difference of more than ten levels would guarantee his victory.
After all, was he not a genius as well?
But now, Yan Feng discarded his arrogance and roared:
"Bone Dragon!"
A circle of ice-blue light appeared beneath him, expanding outward with each soul ring that emerged.
His body swelled with muscle, and large dragon scales burst from his skin, tearing through his clothes.
Two yellow, two purple, one black—five soul rings!
"First Soul Skill—Dragon Transformation!"
"Third Soul Skill—Dragon Form!"
One yellow and one purple ring lit up simultaneously.
Yan Feng's hands turned into bony dragon claws, his eyes sinking into his skull, glowing with a ghostly blue light.
His transformation was similar to the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon's Dragonization, enhancing his attack and defense.
Whoosh!
Yan Feng clenched his left dragon claw into a fist and charged toward Jiang Jue—upholding the Holy Spirit Cult's fine tradition: Strike first for an advantage!