Upon hearing Tiphys mention Meng Fang, Rayli Eugene realized that Meng Fang had never actually intervened throughout the entire battle. If Meng Fang had moved in at that moment, wielding two master artifacts, he would have already launched a full-scale assault. Rayli Eugene turned and surveyed the scene, calling out, "Where is Meng Fang? Where is Meng Fang?" Due to the nature of their sacred oaths, the saints involved could not exchange tactical insights after the fact—every deployment had been decided during the meeting. According to the original plan, Meng Fang should have been actively engaged in combat at this moment. The other saints began scanning around, searching for Meng Fang's presence. Amid the chaos and the constant clashes among the immortals, everyone had been preoccupied with their own concerns and had not paid him much attention. It was only now that they realized Meng Fang had been completely absent from the beginning. Rayli Eugene glanced at the Mage-Emperor Tiphys and murmured, "Has he perhaps hesitated to act?" The peak-level saints instantly grasped his meaning, while the ordinary saints needed a moment longer to catch up with the subtle intent of this pragmatic merchant. Tiferos named his intention to fight Tiangong to the death, daring to be so assertive despite knowing that Tiangong possessed a master artifact. This clearly indicates he had come prepared. Tiangong, at his core, is a sixth-tier peak beast king whose raw strength does not surpass that of the other participants; 80% of his outstanding achievements rely on the master artifacts left behind by the Primordial Sovereign. Therefore, upon sensing Tiferos' confidence, Tiangong has hesitated and retreated—either out of fear or recognizing that he will become the focal point of this celestial battle, thus choosing to withdraw before even arriving at the port. Regardless of which scenario holds true, it is a critical blow to the lawful order faction. If Tiangong is absent, will Tiferos refrain from deploying his reserve forces? Should Tiferos activate his master-level artifacts, he could annihilate all the lawful celestial sovereigns within three minutes. With this realization, the celestial sovereigns of the lawful order grew even more solemn in expression. At that moment, two male saints standing beside the high seer Emily of the Goddess Association suddenly found their eyelids growing heavy, staggering slightly before collapsing with a soft thud and falling into deep sleep. Their breaths ceased instantly—both of them died without a struggle. This sudden development sent a wave of surprise through the lawful saints present. The ability to instantly summon two ordinary saints into dreams and kill them must belong to a sixth-tier seer. Yet the dream-weaver who had just delivered a mental assault remained standing, untouched, not having entered the dream nor fallen. As the lawful saints were still in disbelief, they saw a figure leap out of the dream and join the forces of the evil saints. The figure was about twenty-five years old, with a high nose and full brows, possessing a striking appearance, though his expression and gaze were notably stern and cold, as if carved from ice. Another sixth-tier dream-weaver? "Are you the Heavenly Master?" the dream-mare asked, keenly observing the composed young man. He heard that a Sixth-Rank Dream-Master from the First Region had emerged—decisive in action, powerful in strength. The evil faction of the Second Region had specifically dispatched agents to investigate in Huaguo, seeking information from the Void Sect about this individual. The Void Sect had never heard of the figure known as the Supreme Master. To verify, they retrieved the records of all players who had successfully cleared combat trials over the past decade. However, they found no entry under the name "Supreme Master," suspecting it to be a fabricated identity and reporting this directly to the Hunter's Guild. Thus, the Dream-Mouse was deeply curious about the true identity of the Supreme Master. Regardless of how masterful a Dream-Weaver might be, to reach the pinnacle of Sainthood, one must surely be a well-known figure—there should be no obscurity. Curiosity, intrigue, and a subtle sense of investigation—Zhang Yuanqing sensed these emotions in the Dream-Mouse, who had not concealed them. This person must die; otherwise, I will become the center of attention, and the more I engage, the more troublesome it will grow! Zhang Yuanqing controlled his emotions, showing not a single trace of hostility or intent to kill, and spoke coldly: "Antagonists perish from excessive talking. You, a group of verbose fools, still haven't moved—do you intend to wait for this illusionist to charge ahead?" Antagonists? The black-robed figures cast hostile glances toward the Celestial Master. To the orderly organization, "evil faction" and "evil profession" were labels they had imposed; the so-called evil professionals themselves rejected these terms, claiming to value freedom and autonomy, indifferent to any constraints. Thus, the Celestial Master's own definition of his allies had become flawed. "This man is clearly off his game—ignore him," said the one with profoundly asymmetrical features, whose very presence could drive a person with severe OCD to despair. He took a sip from a flat, iron wine decanter, shrugged, and added: "He's just like the Magi-Eyed King, the second-in-command of the second district—doing the most absurd things while delivering the most polished rhetoric." With the Magi-Eyed King as a point of reference, the black-robed figures instantly grasped the point, their expressions now bright with sudden clarity. At that moment, the star official among the crowd opened their star-eyed gaze, slowly scanning their companions. After a few seconds, they said, "Each of you still bears the same facial aura as when we were on the ship—shrouded in black clouds, with hidden bloodlight, indicating danger, but not death. Indeed, if the Sovereign doesn't intervene, the Saint's Battle tonight will remain unchanged. There's no need to waste more time—let's act." The saints of the evil faction were instantly energized. In contrast, the morale of Xia Zhao and the others had already been low, and now suffered further setbacks, with some more cautious saints even beginning to hesitate. The cocktail enthusiast murmured, "I really appreciate celestial astrology—it helps me anticipate favorable or unfavorable trends in the near term. I wonder if I can purchase a corresponding item to support it." Fool! Astrology is merely a reference—don't rely too heavily on this skill! Zhang Yuanqing, stationed at the lighthouse, silently chuckled to himself. At that moment, half of his face was covered by black, vine-like patterns—this was the outward manifestation when his companion spirit, the Moon Spirit, was activated. Zhang Yuanqing had long noticed that, when paired with his companion spirit, Ling Yue, at the peak of the Sixth Rank, he effectively functioned as a celestial official specializing in the power of the Yin Moon. Under this condition, his "Night Wandering" ability underwent a transformation. The core strength of the Yin Moon, in fact, was not the Yin corpse or resentful spirits, but rather "secrecy," and the prerequisite skill for achieving secrecy was "Night Wandering." Normally, the Night Wandering ability concealed one's aura, movements, and form. When Zhang Yuanqing reached the pinnacle of the Saintly Rank and further enhanced it through his companion spirit, Ling Yue, he discovered that, while in a Night Wandering state, he gained the protection of secrecy. Any divination, fortune-telling, or predictive analysis concerning him would yield no results. At that moment, he fully realized the immense advantage of specializing in one of the three celestial bodies—Sun, Moon, or Stars—and understood the profound significance of the secret techniques of the Tai Men Sect. Although he had previously known that the Night Wandering deities chose one of these three celestial forces, he had never truly experienced or deeply grasped this principle. When he first acquired his companion spirit, Moon, he wasn't yet at the peak of the sixth rank. Back then, he only noticed the surge of Yin energy and the growing number of Yin corpses and spirit servants under his command. Thus, he believed the advantage of specializing in the Sun, Moon, and Stars lay primarily in enhanced combat power. It wasn't until he reached the peak of the Sage Realm and began actively employing his companion spirit Moon that he realized he had underestimated its true potential. It's still uncertain who will emerge victorious in this battle of the saints—let's just follow my plan. As his thoughts flickered, Zhang Yuanqing heard a hoarse voice from below: "If there's no issue, then what are we waiting for?" He saw the black robe on Tiphros shattering into fragments, revealing a terrifying form. His appearance resembled a demon from Western mythology—his skin was a deep, dark red, almost devoid of fat, with each muscle fiber clearly and vividly defined. His face bore little resemblance to that of a human, grotesque and fierce, his crimson eyes cold and ruthless. He had twin hooves on his legs, slender and tall, making his stature far more imposing than that of an ordinary human. Tiphros's body continued to transform—curved horns grew from either side of his skull, and behind him, two rounded flesh pads swelled up, then burst open with a soft 'puff,' expanding into a pair of proud, black membranous wings. The crimson glow in his eyes shifted to a pale gray-white, and suddenly, two beams of pale light shot forth. A holy guardian of a lawful order was struck unexpectedly by a beam, his chest cracking with a series of sharp sounds as gray-white stone rapidly solidified, transforming him into a stone statue within moments. Tiphoros, like a laser emitter, turned his head and unleashed streams of petrifying light at the lawful guardians. The scene became chaotic as the lawful guardians scrambled for cover, while the petrifying beams struck containers, lamp posts, the ground, and cranes, leaving behind patches of gray-white residue. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" Branching lightning bolts descended, striking the black-robed figures indiscriminately, and the holy lightning mages responded with counterattacks. Alongside the lightning came a deluge of wind blades. Now it was the black-robed figures who were scrambling. At the same time, the harbor waters surged with waves, and schools of swordfish leaped from the sea, launching a suicidal assault from behind, charging directly into the black-robed figures. These swordfish were entirely black, shimmering with a metallic luster under the moonlight—marine creatures carefully nurtured by the sea god's church. The cocktail advanced a step, proactively engaging the swordfish, twisting their flight paths so they skimmed past the black-robed figure, some of them embedding themselves into the container, others crashing to the ground. Both sides took shelter behind the containers, exchanging powerful attacks from a distance of over ten meters. The jealous deity, skilled in close combat, advanced into the wind blades and lightning, took a deep breath, and exhaled a dense gray mist that surged toward the lawful champions. Tiphys immediately responded, spewing a thick, ink-green toxic vapor that blended with the mist and surged toward the enemy. "Ah!" The sixth-level wind mage of Divine Judgment, Nos, skimmed low, generating a terrifying gale that scattered both the mist and the poison, then rained down a deluge of wind blades. Wind mages overpower mist-based mages! "By the gods!" The jealous deity reached for a blood-red longsword from his inventory, leaped into the air, and plunged himself into the lawful ranks. But soon, he was pushed back by Xazho and the Deep Sea Horror. Both knight and sea nymph were equally adept in close combat. The Celestial Master and the Dream Manticore hide behind the shipping containers, working together to stir the emotions of the Lawful champions, dampening their morale and attempting to draw them into the realm of dreams. Though the effects unfold gradually, the sense of drowsiness they induce effectively weakens the champions' combat effectiveness. Notably, the chaos among the champions themselves limits the performance of most of them. For instance, the psychic assaults from the Illusionists, the "Drunk Spray" from the Drunkards, the toxic mist from the Deformed, and the dehydration from the Plague God—all are broad, non-discriminatory group attacks. As the two sides clash for a few minutes, several champions fall, and the Lawful faction begins to sense the growing urgency. Their only ranged attackers are the Wind and Thunder Mages, but their wind blades and lightning bolts often miss—either blocked by the containers or distorted by the cocktails. In contrast, although the star officials' spiritual servants were vulnerable to lightning and thick fog and toxic smoke, the dream-weaving mages' ability to enter dreams and the plague deities' infectious pathogens proved relentless and hard to defend against. Several saints now began coughing and experiencing sore throats. "If this continues, we're doomed!" the deep-sea sea-creature exclaimed with growing urgency. "Let's engage in close combat! That cowardly man, Jumang, has already fled. We'll push these evil specialists into the sea—myself, I'll escort them back to the spiritual realm." With that, he summoned his "horses," leaped over the containers, and charged directly at the black-robed figures. Summer Zhao and the others were stunned, and by the time they could call for a halt, it was too late. The dream-mammoth smiled and barked, "Now, fight!" It was he who amplified the deep-sea sea-creature's sense of arrogance—ordinary saints, unable to influence the battle's course, were not within his focus; only the peak saints warranted his attention. Among the peak saints of the lawful faction, the sea-creature stood out as the most notably flawed in character, much The most adept at close combat, the God of Jealousy, surged forward first, the blue flame bursting from Tiphys's palms coalescing into a massive blade. With swift, agile strides, he outpaced his opponent, leaving the God of Jealousy far behind. Her voice carried a mesmerizing charm, stirring longing and igniting passion, which in turn restored a measure of composure to the deep-sea terror. A streak of starlight brightened behind Emily, the celestial official of the Night Rose. He chose not to attack Emily, unwilling to bring his full force to bear. From his inventory, he retrieved a pink whistle and gently blew upon it. The soft chime instantly overpowered Emily's enchanting call, dissolving her spell of allure. The dream manticore exhaled in relief and swiftly bolstered the deep-sea terror's sense of pride. With precious rescue time now expired, Théophroses unleashed two beams of petrifying light from his eyes. The deep-sea terror bent low, concealing himself within the horse's form. The petrifying beams struck the horse's body, leaving a pale patch, but failed to take effect—these beams possessed no destructive power, only the ability to turn matter to stone. "Crash!" The horse collided with the jealous deity's solid bronze and iron frame, and the terror's immense force hurled the deity into the air. As the deity reeled backward, intricate distortions of spellcraft shimmered in his eyes. The deep-sea horror froze, his pupils dilating. Thyfros's blue greatsword swept downward, cleaving through the horror's neck, erupting with dramatic sparks and blazing blue flames. A layer of ethereal scales deflected the blow—impossible for a high-ranking Saint to perish so easily. "Poof!" The blood-red sword spun and plunged into the deep-sea horror's chest—the妖's weapon specialized in breaching armor. With a ripple of water, the blue flame sword smoothly severed the deep-sea horror's neck, causing the steed to collapse and take his place as the fallen. Immediately thereafter, Thyfros emitted beams of pale light from his eyes, striking the deep-sea horror's legs, where gray-white stone rapidly solidified, petrifying him in place. At that moment, a streak of starlight rose behind Thyfros, materializing into a handsome young man holding a distorted scroll—none other than Quemang. As the starlight ascended, Thyfros exhaled softly, as if fully prepared, decisively withdrawing his sword and leaping to the left. At the same time, a distant gunshot echoed. A bullet struck near Ju Meng's foot and exploded, spreading the deep night like a tide, enveloping everything around. The terror of the deep sea and Ju Meng were instantly swallowed by the night, struggling only briefly before collapsing with a soft thud into sleep.