Before Xuekui arrived, his spear was already thrown.
Morax watched the ice spear fly and recalled the first meeting—ice straight to the face. His eye twitched.
This time, a barrier stopped it. Morax didn't move an inch.
Golden light flared around him. More stone spears formed—far more than before.
Xuekui stared at the places where gold appeared. Cryo swirled around him. Ice spears condensed in equal number, meeting stone with stone.
His improved control was obvious now. Even without actively pushing them, the ice spears hovering in the air launched themselves.
Then the golden light tightened. The stone spears rained down.
Xuekui's ice spears couldn't match the stone in mass or weight. But a slight deflection? That was possible.
Ice shattered on impact. The stone spears, struck from the side, veered off and stabbed into the ground, blasting up dust.
From that dust, Xuekui burst out unharmed—
Only for a stone pillar carved with squared patterns to crash down in his path. His pupils shrank. These pillars carried suppression.
He couldn't even touch them.
He ducked, barely avoiding one—then two more slammed down behind him. The fourth descended.
Xuekui remembered being trapped before and moved instantly.
He poured elemental power into his spear until it reached its limit. He pointed the tip at the ground where the pillar would land—and released.
A violent burst of Cryo erupted, flipping the pillar upward. Xuekui slipped out of the encirclement.
He looked up— And froze.
Before Morax floated a different kind of stone spear. Unlike the rough constructs from before, this one was finely crafted—etched with patterns like the pillars.
Worse—
It carried the resonance of "principle." Xuekui's body stiffened.
Defend?
Or push forward?
In a flash, he had his answer.
The patterned spear flashed gold and arrived instantly.
Then, to everyone's horror, countless stone spears poured down again. Is he trying to kill him?!
From within the dust cloud, a bloody severed arm spun out. The adepti beasts' eyelids jumped.
Is this necessary? The child would be on their side in the end—at this rate he'll be crippled. The yaksha, however, remained calm.
To them, severed limbs could be healed with time. It wasn't shocking. But Menogias frowned.
"Why won't the child put on a Yaksha Mask?"
"Yeah! Why?" Indarias squinted, shading her eyes as if trying to see through the dust. Bosacius finally spoke, watching the chaos.
"The rumors were true."
"What rumors?" Mernu asked, confused. Bosacius's voice was heavy.
"That white-haired child doesn't know how to wear a Yaksha Mask." "Doesn't… know?" Mernu's brows knit. "How is that possible?"
For yaksha, wearing the mask was as natural as breathing. Have you ever seen a Slime that can't use elemental power? It was the same.
"Then maybe he isn't a yaksha at all," Mernu murmured.
"I've wondered the same," Bosacius said quietly. "If so… losing an arm would follow him for life. I only hope he doesn't come to hate the Lord for it."
The dust finally cleared.
Only the severed arm lay there, still. Where was he?
Everyone shared the same thought. Morax, sensing something, looked up.
Against the sun, a figure flickered—riding something down.
The adepti followed Morax's gaze and saw a person and a crane diving from above. Bosacius's eyes went wide.
Xuekui's sleeve was torn… but his arm was intact. Was the severed arm an illusion?
Then he saw the bloodstain at the torn cuff.
And his mind latched onto an even more absurd possibility. He regrew an arm… that fast?
Yaksha could regenerate. But it took time.
Not instantly.
That was Xuekui's confidence. He was a divine doctor.
A wound that wasn't fatal? What was there to fear?
Beneath his feet, the crane—entirely crystalline—was an ice construct. The trick he'd been hiding.
That dragon probably thought being in the sky made him untouchable. Surprise.
Morax's eyes fixed on the ice crane. That wasn't simple shaping anymore.
Giving something an animal form was easy. Giving it movement and spirit? That was the seed of creation.
Xuekui had always been skilled at shaping. After his recent training, his control had leapt higher. He could even merge a thread of life force—something he'd already grasped—into the construct.
So the ice gained a sliver of autonomous spirit. Xuekui gripped his spear and fell like a meteor.
Cryo pushed to its limit. His whole body committed. The momentum of the descent slammed him straight into Morax's barrier.
The ice crane shattered.
Xuekui was thrown back by the rebound—
But Morax's simple barrier tore, a small gap ripped open. Concentrated Cryo slipped through and grazed past the unmoving dragon-beast.
The adepti stared.
A single scale drifted down from Morax's body. They leaned back so hard their spines might snap.
Ah Ping was once again bathed in everyone's stares.
This is what you called "still weaker than you"? Ah Ping rolled her eyes.
"Two months ago, his spearwork was crude. I never once saw him use an ice crane. His elemental strength wasn't anywhere near this."
Two months.
A leap like this.
The adepti's understanding of the world felt… misaligned. Morax watched Xuekui adjust midair and land smoothly. His thoughts churned.
If he'd personally taught the child for three months… could he have reached this height? No.
After a brief conflict, Morax let out a clean, easy laugh. He'd been narrow-minded.
The child had carved his own road. To interfere now would mar a naturally formed masterpiece. The wager belonged to the brat.
That fallen scale could serve as proof of his progress. But the battle shouldn't end like a quiet nod.
Xuekui landed and saw sudden golden radiance. He looked up—and his eyes widened. Gold filled the sky.
Countless patterned stone spears covered the heavens, proclaiming sheer domination.