"Has Yuanzi ever visited you?" Jiang Yuyi found this unusual, yet wasn't it something quite ordinary? Chen Yuanjun paused for a few seconds before responding, "Only after I regained my memories did I realize that, over the past three years, the Yuanzi I'd lived with daily had been a person with limited communication skills and a rigid, underdeveloped intellect. However, there was one memory in which Yuanzi demonstrated a normal level of intelligence. This creates a contradiction in my memory—now I can't tell whether it's my memory that's faulty, or whether this situation truly occurred." Jiang Yuyi's brows furrowed immediately. As a hypnotist, she was well aware that Chen Yuanjun's memory would not be compromised; hypnosis essentially caused 'forgetting,' not memory confusion. Once something came back, it would return as it was. Therefore, Yuanzi must have visited Chen Yuanjun during the time he served as the magical king! "You didn't miss it—Yuanzi quietly reached out to you, didn't he? If you've actually seen him, you should have instantly noticed the difference between the two Yuanzi figures and sensed something was off. Yet you showed no reaction at all." Jiang Yuye furrowed her brows and asked, "After he reached out to you, he must have then hypnotized you. What did he want from you?" Chen Yuanjun chuckled with a sigh, "That's precisely why I've been so eager to return. I remember this episode, but I've forgotten the specific details." As he spoke, he added, "Yuanzi seems unreachable now—my phone calls go unanswered." "Your younger brother is busy saving the world!" Jiang Yuye mused for a few seconds, then said, "I'll help you recall it with a hypnosis technique." She reached into her pants pocket, fumbling around, and finally pulled out a coin. "Just focus on it. I'll toss it into the air. When it lands, you'll enter a state of complete relaxation." The higher the duplicate's status, the greater the spiritual energy consumed, and since that energy is drawn from the main body, and as the duplicate is merely there to accompany her family, her status naturally remains modest. The coin shot upward, spun in the air, and then landed with a soft "ting." Chen Yuanjun's pupils dilated, as if entering a state of dreamlike trance; his body muscles gradually relaxed, his face calm and his emotions serene. Jiang Yueyi's voice was ethereal and gentle, like a mother's soft murmur: "Yuanzi, what is it you're looking for?" Chen Yuanjun replied in a dreamy tone: "I... I can't quite remember..." Pausing, he added: "Yes, it seems to be something very important—something truly significant..." Jiang Yueyi's brows furrowed slightly, and she asked several times, receiving the same response each time. ... In Xin Yue County, the duplicate Zhang Yuanqing suddenly leaned forward, fixing her gaze intently on the cat king speaker. The voice emanating from the speaker was not intentionally husky—it was his natural, clear tone. The magical king—actually, it was him—speaking in his normal voice, while the one conversing was his cousin. He had only one cousin. Indeed, the audio carried Chen Yuanjun’s concise reply: “What’s up?” Zhang Yuanqing immediately leaned in, but the cat king speaker emitted a hissing static, drowning out his voice. A few seconds later, the voice returned clear: “Uncle, look at this watch… after I count three, you’ll forget this conversation, forget what I asked you to do. Three, two, one…” The audio ended! “Thank goodness you’re here,” Zhang Yuanqing patted the cat king speaker in appreciation and said, “Go on!” There were many more audio clips to follow, so he decided to listen to them all. … “Huff, huff…” The King of the Magical Eyes saw his vision turn blood-red—blood from a fractured forehead had seeped into his eyes. His clothes were torn to shreds, and he was completely bare—of course, such a setting raised awareness about the issue of nudity. His body was already riddled with wounds—his eight thick arms broke and regrew, only now leaving three, with the remaining seven unable to regenerate. His entire frame was shattered, with flesh and muscle torn away from his waist, abdomen, and back, exposing internal organs. The prolonged, intense combat had nearly drained his strength, and the Sun Sovereign's personally crafted Rising Sun Seal suppressed all spiritual energy, cutting off any possibility of drawing upon it to heal and restore himself. Beyond the physical injuries, the damage at the spiritual level proved to be the true blow. Just recently, the heads of his left and right shoulders had been severed by the King of Fear, and the wounds continue to bleed profusely. The three heads of the ancient war god were no mere ornaments—they were genuine heads, each capable of observing the battlefield, thus each harboring a portion of his soul. Removing the heads meant severing parts of his soul. "Has your Rising Sun Seal run out?" asked the King of Magic Eyes, spitting blood. "I'm nearly at my limit." Fu Qingyang said coldly, "That's the last one." Yet these injuries can be repaired within a short time once "The Rising Sun" concludes. "Let's simply cancel the Rising Sun," said the Mage-Eye King, "and I'll fight him to the death!" Fu Qingyang's hand, holding his sword, trembled slightly—due to muscle spasms—though even with his severe wounds, his gaze remained sharp. "Who gave you the illusion that I can voluntarily cancel the Rising Sun?" asked Fu. The Mage-Eye King drew a breath, chuckled dryly. "Then let's pray we last until the Rising Sun ends." "The end of the Rising Sun is our death sentence!" Fu said coldly. "When I was at the Saint Realm, I learned a technique called 'The Dike-Breaking Sword Style.' It was adapted from the ancient strategy of 'Destroying the Boats and Setting the Camps,' and its advantage is that even ordinary scouts at the Transcendent Realm can learn it." "And then what?" the Mage-Eye King glanced at him skeptically. "Do you expect the swordsmanship of the Transcendent Realm to save us now?" Fu Qingyang, like a cold-tempered swordsman, spoke calmly: "This sword technique doesn't involve spiritual energy—it's purely technical, centered on meditation to stimulate cells, mobilize all physical strength, and deliver damage exceeding one's normal capacity. The Fear Emperor's spiritual and physical reserves are dwindling. You'll carry the burden for one minute—just one minute. We must truly wound him before the sun rises." That would be our only hope. "But my strength is already depleted," the Eye of Magic Emperor shrugged. Fu Qingyang remained expressionless: "Then you go first. I'll come after." The Eye of Magic Emperor gazed at him intently for several seconds, then smiled gently. "Agreed!" As soon as he spoke, he dragged his body, riddled with wounds, straight toward the Fear Emperor, like a lone warrior rushing to meet his fate. At a distance, the Fear Emperor, steadily recovering his strength, smiled and stepped forward to meet him. "Thud!" Instantly upon contact, the Eye of Magic Emperor was knocked to the ground by a single punch. Fu Qingyang closed his eyes, his strong will suppressing all emotions and quickly entering meditation. After several seconds, though there were no visible fluctuations of spiritual energy, his muscles began to ripple one by one, and the blood from his wounds rapidly coagulated. Thump, thump, thump... his fists came down like a rainstorm, landing on the fallen Mag-Eye Emperor, who briefly defended with curved elbows before kicking out at his chest, driven by fear, and slid away. He rose swiftly, one arm bent for defense, the other two clenched into fists, delivering two swift strikes like a venomous snake biting. The Fear Emperor tilted his head slightly, easily evading them, then stepped forward, landing a precise punch on the Mag-Eye's abdomen. "Oof!" The Mag-Eye Emperor's eyes instantly bulged, streaked with blood, he bent low, spitting out sour water. The Fear Emperor pressed firmly on his head, then added a knee strike. Thump, thump, thump... the forceful knee impacts kept striking the Mag-Eye's face, shattering his nasal bones, crushing his steel teeth, and bursting his eyes. The King of Magic Eyes strained with all three arms, fiercely lifting his fists to counterattack, but was held back by the King of Fear's arms. The King of Fear paused his knee strikes, encircling the King of Magic Eyes' neck from behind with both arms, while the remaining three arms locked firmly onto the King of Magic Eyes' only three arms. "How is it, unwilling to use the grace you earned in the Battle for the Throne?" The King of Fear gradually increased his strength, and the King of Magic Eyes' neck emitted a series of crisp cracking sounds—signs of his cervical bones breaking. "Once I've severed your head, under the light of the Sun God, you'll be unable to use even if you wish to." He glanced toward Fu Qingyang, who stood not far away, his expression subtly shifting before he smiled gently. "I see now—you intend to first deal me a heavy blow, then invoke the divine grace! Hm. Do you think, when the time comes, your condition will be better, or mine?" With each passing moment, he intensified his grip, and the cracking sounds grew louder, visibly stretching the King of Magic Eyes' neck. In the midst of excruciating pain, the King of the Mystic Eye actively grasped the three arms of Fear, roaring, "Is that all?" "Pffft!" The King's head detached from his body, carrying with it a half-section of lamb scorpion. A geyser of blood erupted from the neck, reaching six to seven meters high. His hands remained firmly clenched around the King of Fear. Fu Qingyang suddenly opened his eyes, his body transforming into a blade of light, arriving at the back of the King of Fear in an instant. His twin swords morphed into two spinning blades of light, radiating across the King of Fear's body. The tendons in his hands were severed, the ligaments in his arms cut, and the core muscles symbolizing his strength were severed. As the King of Fear slowly knelt, Fu Qingyang paused, rotated his waist, and used his arms to deliver a powerful slash across the left shoulder of the King of Fear. "Pffft! Pffft!" One cut sliced through flesh and muscle, the other severed the cervical vertebrae! The head of the King of Fear rolled off his left shoulder. "Ssshhhh..." Under the light of the Sun God's "Hiss…hiss…" The magenta-eyed king's head began to rise in wisps of blue vapor. Unlike the fearful king, whose left head had a weaker soul and had already begun to dissipate, the main head of the magenta-eyed king still held firm, its inner soul persisting. The fearful king roared, lunging forward and driving his head into Fu Qingyang's chest with a powerful blow. "Thud!" The swords interlaced across Fu Qingyang's chest, and he slid backward several meters. Blood gushed from his seven orifices, his body remained upright like a pine tree, yet his heartbeat ceased and the light in his eyes gradually dimmed. He had not told the magenta-eyed king that this sword technique placed an immense strain on the body—when executed by a swordmaster in poor condition, it often led to sudden cardiac arrest and death, and was thus frequently used as a means of mutual annihilation. Already exhausted, Fu Qingyang succumbed to sudden death as expected. At that very moment, the sun disc behind Fu Qingyang's head began to fade and slowly extinguish.