Wei Feng's battered body barely held together as the swarm of monstrosities overwhelmed him. His peak-level telekinesis had been stretched to its limits, but sheer numbers won out. The weight of the undead crushed him—rotting fingers clawing at his flesh, razor-sharp spider fangs sinking into his leg, and the sickening snap of his own arm being torn from its socket by a hulking, two-meter-tall corpse. Pain. Unbearable, mind-shattering pain.
His vision blurred, his consciousness slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. A strange relief settled over him, numbing the agony. Was this it? Was he finally going to rest? The thought was almost comforting. Sleep. He could sleep now.
But then—his half-lidded eyes caught sight of Zhou Kai.
That smug bastard.
Standing there, indifferent, barely even paying attention to the carnage. His expression was one of sheer disdain, as if Wei Feng was nothing more than an insect struggling in the dirt. Something clicked in his mind. His battered body no longer mattered. The pain no longer mattered. The cold grip of death itself no longer mattered.
As if I'll let this smug little shit win!
In that instant, at the divide between life and death, Wei Feng did what he always did. He broke his limits. Again.
His body erupted with a supernatural glow, an unseen force blasting the monsters away from him. They crashed into walls, their grotesque forms splattering across the dungeon floor. Some tried to charge back, but a translucent barrier shimmered around Wei Feng, their attacks leaving only cracks and dents that immediately regenerated.
Wei Feng's gaze burned with unyielding fury.
"Fate."
The word echoed with power.
Behind him, the skeletal figure loomed—his puppet, his guardian. Its translucent, hazy form shifted like a specter caught between worlds. Its eyes burned an eerie, ghostly blue. Threads of invisible force extended from its bony fingers, wrapping around Wei Feng's mangled body.
His severed arm, lying in a pool of blood, twitched. Then, as if pulled by unseen hands, it floated back toward him, the skeletal being guiding it into place. The moment it reattached, the strings stitched it back seamlessly, muscles reconnecting, tendons weaving together. The poisoned blood from the spider bite was extracted, small dark droplets hovering in the air before being crushed by an unseen force.
Wei Feng rolled his shoulders, flexing his newly restored arm.
Zhou Kai, watching the display, let out a dry chuckle. "Oh? Look at you. A little glow-up and suddenly you think you're something special?" He scoffed, arms crossed. "Face it, you're a rat scrambling in the dark. It doesn't matter how many times you get up—"
"Shut up."
Zhou Kai blinked.
Wei Feng took a step forward, the floor cracking beneath his heel. "I'm done listening to monologues from dead men."
For the first time, Zhou Kai reacted. He took a step back.
Wei Feng's speed seemed godly—he was the wind, and the wind was him. In a blur, he reached the shimmering water barrier that had kept Zhou Kai untouched so far. As soon as he touched it, resistance pushed back. It was like being trapped in a shifting bubble, its fluid walls flexing but refusing to yield. Gritting his teeth, Wei Feng pressed his palm against the surface. Strong vibrations pulsed outward from his hand, causing distortions in the water's flow. The ripples became tremors, and the tremors turned into fractures—until finally, the barrier shattered like fragile glass, leaving Zhou Kai bare to Wei Feng's ill intent.
Zhou Kai's expression darkened, and without hesitation, he made his move. A perfect clone of himself, sculpted entirely from water, formed beside him. Before Wei Feng could react, Zhou Kai teleported behind him—bypassing the barrier entirely. The water clone, now a swirling vortex, slipped through the remaining cracks in Wei Feng's defenses, an undetectable mist reforming behind him. With precision, the liquid entity solidified, conjuring a hammer of condensed water in an instant.
CRACK!
The impact crashed against Wei Feng's skull, sending his vision spinning into a chaotic blur. Pain shot through him like lightning, but his instincts were faster. He forced his hand outward toward the clone, and in a moment of unshaken clarity, he understood—life and death, the balance between motion and stillness, the nature of gravity itself.
A crushing force descended upon the water clone. The very space around it seemed to distort as the pressure mounted, and in seconds, the clone collapsed, reverting into a harmless pool at Wei Feng's feet.
Wei Feng's breath came in ragged bursts. Blood trickled down his forehead, pooling at his brow and slipping into his eye. His skull throbbed; the wound was deep enough to expose the bone beneath. And yet, he laughed—unrestrained and carefree. He grinned like a devil defying death itself.
With his other hand, he pointed toward Zhou Kai.
Before Zhou Kai could react, an invisible force yanked him downward. Hard. His body slammed into the concrete ground with a brutal impact. His teeth and nose shattered upon contact, a wet *crunch* echoing through the dungeon. Blood spilled from his split lips as he coughed, his expression twisted in rage.
"Bastard!" he spat, his voice gurgling with blood.
But Zhou Kai was far from finished.
With a trembling hand, he reached into his robes and pulled out a dark, pulsating organ—a demon's heart. Without hesitation, he took a monstrous bite.
The transformation was immediate.
His veins bulged, glowing an eerie luminescent blue as demonic energy surged through his body. His flesh twisted, cracking open in places as azure fire erupted from beneath his skin. His once-human form warped into something otherworldly—a being of sky-blue flesh, sinewy and elongated, yet brimming with raw power. Three jagged horns jutted from his forehead, forming a grotesque crown. His eyes burned with unnatural light, shifting like the deep ocean under a storm. His fingers elongated into claws, each one dripping with water so dense it carried the weight of the abyss itself. His back arched as spined ridges protruded along his spine, and his aura turned oppressive—almost suffocating.
With newfound arrogance, Zhou Kai stepped forward, completely unaffected by the gravity pressing down on him moments ago.
A smirk stretched across his monstrous face. "Is that all?" he taunted, voice layered with an unnatural echo.
Zhou Kai sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I don't even need to use my water techniques. I will end you with this."
With a simple yet deliberate gesture of his fists, he vanished like a ghost, his speed beyond comprehension. The next instant, he reappeared in front of Wei Feng's telekinetic barrier. With a single finger, he pressed against it. Cracks spread across its surface like a shattered mirror before it crumbled into nothing.
Wei Feng barely had a moment to react before a devastating punch slammed into his stomach. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through his body, his ribs groaning under the force. Blood burst from his lips, splattering onto the cold ground. His vision blurred, pain lancing through every nerve in his body.
But then, through clenched teeth, he whispered, "Let's end this."
"Fate Armor."
A suffocating aura erupted from him. The once-translucent skeleton that had hovered behind him now surged forward, merging seamlessly with his body. His flesh became encased in a ghostly exoskeleton, gaseous yet unyielding as iron. His form shifted—no longer merely human but something greater, something war-forged.
His armor bore the echoes of ancient European knights, but twisted, corrupted by a gothic darkness. The skeletal helmet engulfed his head, its hollow eye sockets burning with an eerie silver glow. A tattered, dark hood draped over his head, making him appear like a reaper stepping through the veil of death itself.
Zhou Kai's grin faltered for the first time. "What the hell is this?"
Wei Feng did not answer. His body blurred, his speed now rivaling the specter-like movements of Zhou Kai. They clashed in an instant, fists colliding with enough force to shatter stone. The battlefield trembled under their might, the very air thick with the tension of impending death.
Blow after blow was exchanged, neither gaining the upper hand. Zhou Kai, relying on his raw demonic strength, his body a blur of blue infernal might. Wei Feng, an embodiment of fate and war, his skeletal armor absorbing each devastating strike, his counters precise, calculated, deadly.
Their fight spiraled into chaos, each attack a death sentence should it land. Blood, sweat, and raw power clashed in an unforgiving storm of combat. This was no longer a simple duel—it was war incarnate.