Die, Replay, Repeat

The woman staggered back, her mind spiraling in chaos as the monstrous shadow of Taotie loomed overhead. 

Her voice trembled with disbelief, tinged with sheer terror. “This is impossible! A mere third-tier psychic—how can you summon something 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 slammed 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 transformed 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 immense force.

Their combined assault struck Taotie’s hand head-on, shredding chunks of its grotesque flesh and spraying the battlefield with blood and rotting meat. 

For a brief moment, 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 something 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 moment, fury overcame her terror. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. But there was no time for curses or anger—her survival instincts screamed 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 someone who could transcend his limits. Entities like Taotie weren’t mere 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 consumed an immense 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 stemmed from population differences. After all, Specters existed to devour humans. The greater the population density, the greater the number of Specters that would emerge.

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 times 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 consumed.

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 moment 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 flame wings propelling him forward with ease.

He had gleaned some inspiration from the Tengu’s earlier attack and figured this would be a good opportunity to experiment.

With a thought, Fang Xiu’s black flame wings flared violently. The flames splintered, scattering into tens of thousands of fiery fragments that shot outward. The fragments coalesced into black flame ravens, their bodies wreathed in ghostly fire.

The flock of flame ravens cawed and shrieked, their movements eerily lifelike as they flapped their wings and swarmed 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 flame ravens in an attempt to smother them.

But the black flame ravens were no ordinary fire. They were imbued with the power of the Genesis Mask, flames that could burn Spiritual Energy itself.

All abilities, no matter how strange or intricate, ultimately relied on Spiritual Energy. Flames 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 moment the black flames 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 flames, before disintegrating into ash.

As the monster perished, the woman suffered the psychic backlash immediately. 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 flame ravens with a wave of his hand, nodding in satisfaction.

This technique was proving far more useful than simply spraying flames. The ravens’ ability to dive, turn, and swarm gave them unparalleled flexibility in combat.

However, the name “Crowstorm” felt unworthy of the power the technique displayed. He pondered for a moment before murmuring to himself.

“Raven Death.”

The name resonated with him. The flames, shaped like ravens, would bring his enemies a death sentence. It was fitting.

With his decision made, Fang Xiu came down gracefully from the sky. As his feet touched the ground, the black flame wings dissipated in an instant, all the energy flowing back into the Genesis Mask on his face.

The mask shimmered 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 seemed 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!