Twenty xenon lamps near by, six searchlights in the distance—all illuminating simultaneously, transforming the entire port into daylight and dispelling the darkness. At the same time, they illuminated the group of evil professionals who had leapt from yachts onto the shore, dressed in uniform black cloaks, their hoods drawn up, concealing their faces. Dozens of new covenant county police officers hidden behind containers carried six single soldier rocket launchers and fired at the cloaked figures. Whizz! Six streaks of smoke shot toward the black-clad figures, followed by thunderous explosions, engulfing the evil professionals from the second district. The flames distorted their forms, and as if dissolving into illusions, they vanished—only to reappear several meters away. No, they had always been there—the police officers of the new covenant county had been bewitched and were firing into empty ground. "Send us mere ants to irritate us?" one of the cloaked figures stepped forward, lifting his head, his eyes now swirling with a dizzying vortex. Gazing into the transparent vortices of their eyes, the police officers, each carrying a man-portable rocket launcher, experienced a surge of terror, dropping their weapons in panic and fleeing the port. Facing such ordinary mortals, the sorcerer even spared the effort of launching a mental assault, deeming them unworthy of compromising his moral standing. The cloaked figures at the wharf hurriedly retreated, employing various techniques to withstand the devastating, sweeping attacks. Yet still, one Sage fell to the first wave, and two others were severely wounded. In a single round, the second district lost two Sages, with two more sustaining serious injuries. One of the cloaked figures snorted, then raised his head, emitting a piercing, sharp cry. At that very instant, standing atop the lighthouse, observing from above, Zhang Yuanqing clearly saw the man's face and recognized him. Though illusionists could shift forms endlessly, they typically needed a consistent physical presence to maintain interpersonal connections. Thus, most of the time, they preserved their outward appearances. This man's spiritual realm ID: the Dream Leopard! A top-tier Sage of the Southern School, slightly stronger than Yin Chuan, the former spiritual servant. The Dream Leopard had been active in Fujian Province for years, so Zhang Yuanqing had only seen him listed on the Five Elements Alliance's wanted list—never had they met personally. Otherwise, he would have already sent him back to the spiritual realm. With a piercing roar, whether it was the Sage from the second district or the wind mage soaring in the sky, both felt as though struck squarely on the head—severely headachy, with blood gushing from their eardrums, orbital sockets, and nasal passages. Seizing the moment, another cloaked figure pressed his forehead, bracing against the pain, and expelled a stream of yin energy. That yin energy materialized into a series of writhing, wrathful spirits, charging toward the wind mage, who was now dizzy and disoriented from the mental assault—under normal circumstances, the flying speed of a spiritual servant could not match that of the wind mage. As one after another of the restless spirits penetrated his body and completed the attachment, the wind mage floating in the air gradually lost control, spinning wildly, like drunken birds. A black-robed figure stepped forward, his robe tearing as it unfolded, revealing a strong, copper-toned frame. Standing about 1.8 meters tall, he had short hair and his eyes wrapped in a black cloth. It is said that the God of Jealousy prefers to cover his eyes with black cloth, as it most effectively suppresses his jealous emotions. When unseen, jealousy ceases to exist—thus, no impulse to kill arises. Without jealousy, there is no need for sudden, violent actions. When facing ordinary people, the God of Jealousy rarely covers his eyes, since the things that could stir his envy in mortals are so few, and since mere insects can be slain at will, without needing to hesitate. Only when collaborating with a peer-level spiritual traveler or attending gatherings within the evil faction does he choose to veil his eyes. The God of Jealousy reached into the void and plucked a hard, deep-red bow, aiming it at a wind mage spinning wildly in the air. He drew the bowstring taut, while at the same time, red streaks burst from his fingertips, coalescing into a slender, pointed arrow. As the bow curved like a full moon, a figure leapt from the container and landed on the battlefield—golden hair, strong and noble, the knight Xaz. With a cross-shaped longsword in hand, he spoke in a low, solemn tone, like a king issuing a decree or a judge pronouncing law: "The rules of this contest: no use of bows or arrows." A radiant white light surged from the sword, sealing the law and establishing the rule. The God of Jealousy's arms, as though weighted down by thousands of tons of stone, trembled, unable to release the bowstring—only by lowering the bow could he escape the pressure of the rule. A coin shot from afar, spun through the air, struck the God of Jealousy, and clinked to the ground, accompanied by a deep voice: "This is no bow—it's a crossbow!" The silver coin exploded with a loud pop, and the rule-based power pressing upon the Jealous Divine Commander instantly vanished. The drunkard's new profession, after his transition, is called the "Disorderer"—a specialist in disrupting order and excelling at exploiting rule loopholes, forming a mutual counterbalance with the Knight. The Knight restores chaotic order, while the Disorderer creates vulnerabilities in the rules established by the Knight. "Crash!" The Jealous Divine Commander released his bowstring, and a clear, sharp sound echoed through the night sky. The arrow transformed into a blood-colored stream of light, piercing through one Wind Mage instantly, then shooting forward for several meters before curving back to strike a second Wind Mage afflicted by a spirit of resentment. At that moment, the first Wind Mage was engaged in a struggle to regain control of his body from the spirit, leaving him unable to focus or dodge—making him an easy target. Fizzing... A series of electric arcs formed a grid in the air, encircling four Wind Mages. The fragile Wind Mages instantly stiffened, their hair standing on end, and their eyes rolling back. Three of them fell directly from the sky, their bodies rising in waves of black smoke, and Zhang Yuanqing heard the agonized cries of the wailing spirits. Among the divine forces, the thunder's ability to drive away spirits ranked only slightly behind the night-wanderer's spirit-consuming power and the sun god's strength. Although at the peak of Level Six, Nostrum did not lose his mobility or become dazed, he instead leveraged the thunder's spirit-driving effect to regain control over his body, calmly raising a wall of wind that dispersed the crimson light streams upon impact. He manipulated the airflow, lifting his three unconscious companions and swiftly retreating. On the other side, the senior saint of the Sea God Church, "Deep-Sea Terror," summoned a steed formed of condensed seawater, riding it at high speed to charge against the jealous divine general. The black-robed figures along the path scattered to avoid the charge. Thud! The steed struck the jealous general squarely in the chest, producing a sound like a deep thunderclap, sending the general flying backward and plunging him into the sea. The sea surface erupted with a loud sound, and a massive tongue covered in black scales surged forth, opening its vast, toothed maw. It lifted its head, caught the jealous divine general mid-air, and swallowed him whole before vanishing back into the depths. If it were at sea, the Deep Sea Terror might withstand the sea nymph's domain, but here, it's land—despite the ocean being just nearby. Moreover, he is seriously ill, in a weakened state, and the sea nymph lacks the ability to vanish. Under such relentless attacks, she is certain to fall. At that moment, Rayli Eugene, with his dark golden side part, wearing a blue suit, exuding refinement and elegance, appears beside the Deep Sea Terror and steadies his shoulder. Just as the attacks descend, the two vanish together. Transmission! Rayli Eugene supports the Deep Sea Terror to a container located about fifteen meters away. "I've saved your life—how about five million?" asks Rayli. The Deep Sea Terror glances at him. "I'll add another hundred thousand—just to buy medicine that can treat my illness." "Two hundred thousand!" "Fifteen thousand!" "Deal!" Rayli Eugene reaches out, plucks a golden pill from the air, and hands it over. The deep-sea terror swallowed the pill and gradually turned rosy. The burning sensation in his lungs, the weakness in his limbs, and the headaches and dizziness rapidly subsided. At that moment, the sea roared, splashing waves everywhere. A figure leapt out of the water, landing heavily on the shore—none other than the God of Jealousy. His black robe had been torn into fragments, and he lay bare, his bronze-bodied muscles clearly defined, radiating powerful strength. Strange patterns adorned half his face; anyone who looked directly at him felt dizzy and mentally confused. Four ethereal arms extended from his back, slightly opened, ready to tear at any moment. Behind him, the sea surface slowly rose to reveal a massive serpent body, its head shattered yet strangely without any blood flowing. Though the God of Jealousy had sustained serious injuries, after defeating the sea creature, the passive, bloodthirsty fury of the spirit-being surged, instantly healing his wounds and enhancing his combat power. The aura was now exceptionally bold, surpassing even their neighboring companions. After the first round of exchanges, neither side immediately engaged, but instead observed and assessed the other. Together, thirty-some senior saints stood in direct confrontation. Zhang Yuanqing remained passive—he suspected that the true objective of the evil faction tonight was "Ganmang." By eliminating him and seizing the master-level artifact, the evil side would achieve substantial gains regardless of whether they succeeded in the master-level combat. Thus, he needed to watch closely and avoid a hasty charge. At this moment, the masters had already withdrawn from the battlefield, leaving only the distant horizon of the harbor visible—gales howled, lightning flashed, and occasionally, the deep-voiced, resonant calls of sea creatures echoed through the air. Clearly, the masters had deliberately chosen to avoid this location. Neither side wished to risk a total destruction, sacrificing their elite saints, who were the reserve force and the future backbone of their strength. Rayli Eugene surveyed the several peak-tier saints who had just stepped forward, speaking with the calm, methodical tone of someone counting goods. "One plague-wielder, one fog-master, one dream-weaver, one star-observer, one one who disrupts order... in terms of numbers, we have the edge. But they have more peak-tier specialists—so the outcome will likely be a close contest, around fifty-fifty." As he finished speaking, a tall figure emerged from beside a container—dressed in a long black robe, hooded. The man stood nearly two meters tall, with a frame far exceeding that of an ordinary adult, white bandages wrapped around his face, revealing only two vivid, demonic red vertical pupils. Upon seeing him, the expressions of Xia Zhao and the others instantly grew serious, as if facing a formidable adversary. Rayli Eugene himself dropped his relaxed demeanor, frowning. It was Tiphoros! The Grand Mage Tiphoros. Ranked first on the New Covenant District's A-tier wanted list and second on the Celestial Judgment Headquarters' A-tier list, this Grand Mage had established his reputation over a decade. During his years of prominence across the Free Federation, many of the saints present were still in their In the world of the Spirit Realm travelers, age signifies strength—not only through the accumulation of combat experience and skill mastery, but also because elder Spirit Realm travelers, much like ancient practitioners, have the time to refine and cultivate secret arts. Tiforos is one such being. It is said that when he first became a Saint, he was contaminated by a creation left behind by an indescribable entity within a particularly challenging instance, causing a dreadful transformation in his body—thus becoming a demon, from which he could never recover his human form. As a result, he has worn black robes and been bound in bandages for years. Tiforos regards the "contamination" as a divine blessing and has tirelessly cultivated his demonic body, deliberately choosing to remain at the Saint level, refusing to advance to the rank of Sovereign. With each successful completion of a Saint-level instance, his demonic form grows stronger. While no one knows exactly how he achieves this, it is known that he possesses a secret art, allowing him to repeatedly clear Saint-level instances and steadily accumulate depth and strength. This kind of figure is exceptionally special, akin to Fu Qingyang of the second major region or the Mage with the Divine Eye—once they ascend to the status of Sovereign, they leap like fish to the river's mouth, far surpassing ordinary Sovereigns. Facing such a figure who can decisively shift the balance of battle, the Saintly figures of the Lawful Order were visibly tense and vigilant. Teferos' vertical gaze swept across the assembled Saints, his voice strained beneath the bandages: "A bunch of liabilities. My focus isn't on you. Bring out Jun Mang—return him to the Spiritual Realm tonight!" Zhang Yuanqing on the tower narrowed his eyes. Was the Evil Coalition's key strategy against Jun Mang finally being deployed on Teferos?