Thunder-Echo Ridge remained the same, yet the vision within Chen Gensheng’s eye had transformed entirely. Through his right eye, a scene of dire omen unfolded: within a single physical shell, three souls had been forcibly crammed. One was Zhang Cuizhan’s original soul, now entangled with two others like a chaotic braid. The remaining two—one a verdant glow, the other a profound black—were clearly the hijacked essences of others, their plight pitiable.

  The co-habitation of three souls in one vessel had sent his spiritual energy flow into total disarray—surging like thunder in some places, stagnating like a blocked river in others. Within his range of vision, Gensheng could clearly perceive a subtle reverse flow of spiritual energy in Zhang’s left shoulder, a disturbance caused by the clashing souls.

  In such a state, Zhang would struggle to protect himself, let alone engage in a magical duel.

  Gensheng retracted his ink-jade insect wings and landed lightly at the other end of the summit, roughly a hundred yards from Zhang Cuizhan. Neither too close nor too far.

  Zhang spotted him as well. Across the hundred-yard expanse, the two stared at each other. The mountain wind swept by, swirling gravel and dust into the air; its whistling moan became the only sound in that deathly quiet world.

  Suddenly, Chen Gensheng produced the Shock-Wyrm Fire-Fish Flag. Zhang’s pupils constricted instantly, his spiritual energy surging to its peak.

  Yet Gensheng merely took out a clean cloth and, right before Zhang's eyes, began to wipe the high-grade artifact as if no one else were there. He wiped from the tip of the flagpole downward, inch by inch, his expression focused and meticulous.

  Zhang Cuizhan offered a distant, formal cupped-hand salute. Gensheng kept wiping. After finishing the pole, he moved to the fabric. The fire-silk felt as warm as jade under his fingertips; under the gaze of his new right eye, the fire-fish totem came alive, cheerfully blowing bubbles of energy.

  A fine item indeed. Gensheng felt a surge of secret delight.

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  After dozens of heartbeats, he finally finished. He tossed the cloth aside, letting the wind take it, and looked back at Zhang.

  Zhang was nearly at his breaking point. Veins pulsed beneath his refined skin, and his spiritual energy flirted with the edge of chaos. But Gensheng had already stowed the flag back into his ring.

  "Where is your partner?"

  Zhang’s face twitched. The three souls within him grew even more agitated at the sudden question. In Gensheng's right eye, Zhang’s internal energy flow looked like a boiling pot of mush, splattering everywhere.

  "Brother Xiao... has urgent matters and has departed for the time being," Zhang squeezed out a smile, his voice dry. "Now, only the two of us remain on this ridge."

  Gensheng nodded solemnly. "So he ran away. That won't do. If he doesn't show up, I won't feel at ease."

  Zhang’s face darkened. Suppressing the screaming ghosts in his soul, he spoke syllable by syllable: "He. Will. Not. Return."

  "Is that so?" A strange expression appeared on Gensheng's face. "I don't believe it."

  The blood surged in Zhang’s chest.

  Gensheng opened his mouth. A dense swarm of wasps erupted, forming a massive, writhing black cloud within the blink of an eye, enveloping him completely. The insect cloud, over ten yards in diameter, hovered in the air, its buzzing vibrating painfully against the eardrums.

  The cloud drifted aimlessly. Zhang’s divine sense found nothing but a void; he could only watch as the black mass hovered above him.

  "Rat!" Zhang finally roared at the sky. "Do you only know these cowardly tricks? Come out and face me in an honorable battle!"

  A soft chuckle drifted from the cloud.

  Trembling with rage, the two foreign souls in Zhang's body began to assault his consciousness again. The node of reversed energy in his left shoulder stung like ten thousand needles. If he waited any longer, he would succumb to internal deviation and explode before his opponent even moved.

  A flash of resolve crossed Zhang’s eyes. He slammed his hands together, and the tattered formation flags reappeared, floating around him.

  "The Four Seasons rotate; life and death are mine to decide!"

  Just as he was about to activate the formation to envelop the disgusting cloud, the front of the swarm split open, revealing Chen Gensheng’s eerily handsome face. Instinctively, Zhang focused all his attention on that face.

  But at that exact moment, another section at the bottom of the cloud burst open. A small flag, shrouded in billowing flames and freezing ice spikes, shot forth like a bolt.

  Zhang’s soul nearly leaped out of his body in terror! In his haste, he poured every drop of spiritual energy into his protective light.

  The Shock-Wyrm Fire-Fish Flag pierced through the hurried barrier without resistance. The tip of the flag pointed with unerring precision toward the weakest node in his defense—the point of reversed energy in his left shoulder!