He then turned towards Hudi, "Young man, your little lover is about the same, you wouldn't want to see her turn to dust, would you."

"Hudi, I too was once one of them," Hes's voice grew weaker, "but eternal life is nothing but a hollow illusion for mortals. Those immortals you see, their wills are no longer their own."

Hudi nodded in acknowledgment.

He took a step back, gripped the illusionary Blade of Victory tightly with both hands, and pointed it straight at the people before him.

Seeing this, the Messenger shook his head, "So stubborn, just like thirty years ago. But all those things you're relying on are predetermined illusions. You think this sword will save you—"

He stretched out his hand and pointed.

A gray light shot out from his palm, striking right at the sword in Hudi's hand.

But the shadow of the Fairy Holy Sword Galapeya, which had trapped Nikopolas's Golden Star Pupil in this Phantom Realm for thirty years and was indestructible, shattered like broken glass under that gray light.

With a loud blast, the shards of steel burst forth, piercing towards Hudi behind like countless needles, making him scream in agony, as he fell to the ground covered in blood.

"Hudi!"

Hes's eyes widened in disbelief at this scene.

She watched the young man's unbearable pain and couldn't help but shed tears, but she couldn't believe that the Holy Sword, entrusted to her protection by that Madam, could be destroyed so easily?

That man, looking at Hudi lying in a pool of blood, sneered, "I should thank you for bringing this sword here. Without it being here, and its Guardian so extremely weak, I wouldn't have been able to do this so easily."

He walked over slowly, bent down, and picked up the broken hilt of Galapeya under everyone's gaze, mockingly looking at every person present, especially at Diket, "You've lost again, just like thirty years ago."

"But you haven't won either, just like thirty years ago."

An abrupt voice rang out.

The Messenger was slightly taken aback, the topic seemingly infuriating him, "Who is it!" He roared, lifting his head, only to see Fang Hong's fairy in mid-air.

But the Clockwork Fairy was slowly descending to the ground, landing next to Hudi.

"I've said before, from the very beginning you all got one thing wrong."

Fang Hong spoke again.

But this time, the voice came from behind the hall, down the corridor.

The man turned around in astonishment, only to see a young man with an unbelievably beautiful girl slowly emerging from the darkness there.

Behind the two, the Miss Maid was carrying a person, tossing them to the ground in front of him—a Dragon Worshipper.

It was his Immortal who had been left outside to keep watch.

But he looked at these few people somewhat warily, they didn't seem to have the strength to overcome his subordinates, and suddenly narrowed his eyes slightly.

Because he saw the man behind Fang Hong.

"It's you, Luen Linxiu, so you've come too."

"You know me, but I don't know you," Luen glanced at the people: "Did those from thirty years ago all meet their fate and die off, leaving no one I recognize today?"

He mockingly glanced at the Messenger, "It seems you so-called immortals are much shorter-lived than a common man like me."

The man was nearly choked with fury by the taunt, his face turned pale.

He was about to say something.

But then he saw Fang Hong extend his hand, gesturing slightly in this direction, and suddenly, the broken sword lying on the ground began to pull together as if gathered by an invisible hand.

Countless glows flew out from those fragments, converging towards the young man's direction.

Then, they were absorbed into the latter's chest.

In an instant, they disappeared from sight.

He watched this scene dumbfounded, instinctively feeling something was amiss, and subconsciously asked, "What the devil is this!?"

But an even more shrill voice came from behind him, "Stop him! He has that thing!" That was the terrified scream of Dragon's Golden Eyes.

"That thing?"

The Messenger was stunned.

But then he saw Fang Hong slowly raising his hand.

In his hand was a Scepter that looked as ordinary as could be; if there was anything special, it might be the Morning Light Emblem of the Colin Royal Family.

But the man's face changed dramatically.

"...This Scepter!"

"Didn't you just win?" Fang Hong spoke indifferently, "Then first ask if Dolifen agrees."

"Now, let this city answer you."

...

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