Extremely Tragic Battle

Seeing the screen full of question marks!

Liu Feng naturally understood what the group members were thinking—messing with them was certainly amusing.

Still, what he said wasn't wrong. Even if upgrading a world earned merit rewards, they'd be limited. After all, the so-called economic foundation determines the superstructure; if the foundation was weak, where would all those points come from?

In short, it was still due to the world's restrictions.

Liu Feng: "Ahem, just joking, don't overthink it. I'm actually quite troubled too—where am I supposed to find nine million points next!"

Group Members: ...

When people were speechless, they really were speechless!

This Big Shot could genuinely infuriate someone to death.

Nine million points.

Forget nine million points—we can barely scrape together ten thousand points right now!

Forget it, you're the Big Shot, as long as you're happy!

Then, the group members quickly changed the subject, not dwelling on the matter of points.

They started discussing the battle between the righteous and demonic paths again.

Meanwhile, in the West, after Ancestor Qiankun and the others self-destructed, Hong Jun finally made his move.

Even after the three self-destructed and severely wounded Rahula, Hong Jun didn't strike immediately. He just watched Rahula quietly, seeing that he had seemingly recovered on the surface—at least outwardly.

As for the true state of things, only Rahula himself knew. His Primordial Spirit injuries were severe, never truly healed.

But facing the calm Hong Jun, Rahula naturally wouldn't show any fear.

He raised his hand and swept the God-Slaying Spear, the tip's cold light surging, and roared: "Die! Old man Hong Jun!"

In his view, Hong Jun must have expended just as much energy as he had, making this the perfect moment to strike.

Yet the next scene made Rahula instantly understand everything.

He saw Hong Jun raise his hand and wave lightly. Three figures with appearances strikingly similar to his suddenly leaped out from his Primordial Spirit—they were Hong Jun's Three Corpse Selves!

"Hahaha! Hahaha!"

Rahula burst into wild laughter, filled with grief and resentment: "Hong Jun, what a Hong Jun! I never thought Ancestor Qiankun and the others, even myself, were all schemed against by you! You're truly insidious!"

"Say what you will. Now, just go on your way peacefully." Hong Jun's tone was flat, without a ripple.

"Ha! Relying on you? If so, then let's fight!" Rahula roared in fury, gripping the God-Slaying Spear as he charged straight at Hong Jun.

In an instant, the two clashed fiercely again.

In terms of raw strength, they were evenly matched, locked in a deadlock for a time.

But now, Hong Jun had the advantage of his artifacts, coupled with Rahula's massive Mana depletion and the need to split his focus controlling the four Immortal Slaughtering Swords;

Moreover, his Three Corpse Selves kept disrupting the Immortal Slaughtering Sword Formation. With multiple advantages stacked, Hong Jun had gained a slight upper hand.

Never underestimate this sliver of advantage. At their level, victory or defeat often hinged on such a fine margin.

Seizing the moment when Rahula was distracted defending against the main body, Hong Jun's three clones swiftly darted to the formation gates, respectively removing the Entrapment Immortal Sword, Extinction Immortal Sword, and Slaughter Immortal Sword hanging there.

Only the Slaughter Immortal Sword remained. With the four swords incomplete, the immensely powerful Immortal Slaughtering Sword Formation instantly collapsed!

The moment the formation broke, Rahula suffered backlash, and the injuries he had long suppressed within could no longer be contained.

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"Ugh—" He couldn't help but violently spit out a mouthful of blood. His aura instantly wilted, his strength reduced by more than half.

The two sides fell into a standoff again.

"Heh, old man Hong Jun, your scheming is just as consistent as ever!

Back in Chaos, and now still so despicable! First, you let those three—Ancestor Qiankun and the others—self-destruct and severely wound me, draining my Mana, so you could reap the benefits?

But this Ancestor won't let you have your way! I'll call it quits for today. Next time, I'll have a proper bout with you!"

With these words, Rahula's intent to retreat was clear. After all, he was battle-hungry, not stupid. Knowing it was futile, why push forward? Preserving strength to start over later was the way.

"Oh? The mighty Devil Ancestor feels fear?"

Hong Jun's eyes turned cold, his tone brooking no argument: "But today, you and I must settle this.

Want to run? Don't dream. You stirred up internal strife among the three clans for no reason, killing countless beings—your sins are grave.

This calamity is decreed by the Heavenly Dao. Today, I will eliminate this scourge on behalf of all beings in the Primordial World!"

Seeing Hong Jun so relentless, determined to take his life, Rahula knew he had no way out—only to fight to the death.

It was only then, belatedly, that he realized the Hong Jun before him, seemingly immortal and exuding a celestial aura he loathed, could unleash such terrifying power.

But Rahula was, after all, a Devil Ancestor-level existence, with far superior crisis perception.

The moment Hong Jun moved, he sensed a fatal threat and snapped to alertness.

His powerful spiritual awareness raced through his mind, forcibly manipulating the surrounding rules of space and time;

At the same time, his Mana surged violently, waves of formidable energy bursting forth.

The supreme Primordial Spiritual Treasure, the Twelfth Grade Black Lotus, instantly radiated layers of black halos, firmly encasing his body within.

Seeing this, Hong Jun's Three Corpses immediately encircled Rahula, engaging him in close combat.

Though beaten back repeatedly, Rahula relied on the formidable defense of the Twelfth Grade Black Lotus to barely hold on, making it difficult for Hong Jun to break through for a time.

The reason for this was not hard to explain: although Hong Jun's Three Corpses wielded the Primordial Supreme Treasures left behind by Ancestor Qiankun and others, they had a fatal flaw—these Primordial Supreme Treasures had not been fully refined, so their power was severely limited and required immense Mana to sustain.

In contrast, Rahula had long since fully refined the Twelfth Grade Black Lotus and the God-Slaying Spear, merging the treasures with his own Mana for seamless control.

With such a comparison, Hong Jun's Three Corpses naturally gained no advantage.

Bang bang bang bang bang!

The two sides clashed back and forth, battling for who knew how many more years.

Suddenly, Hong Jun gathered all his strength and unleashed his most powerful finger strike. This finger struck unerringly, hitting the barrier formed by Rahula's Twelfth Grade Black Lotus.

In an instant, a roar like a planet exploding shook heaven and earth, as if billions of volcanoes erupted simultaneously. Even the sun and moon seemed devoured by this force, losing their light.

The black light radiating from the Twelfth Grade Black Lotus was instantly shattered, and Rahula's true body was blasted into writhing chunks of flesh, splattering everywhere.

Each chunk of flesh exuded a fierce fluctuation, mixed with his maddened howls.

The aftermath of this strike was even more terrifying, nearly tearing apart the surrounding space, as if threatening to destroy the world.

If the Group Members were to witness such a brutal battle, who knew what they would think—they'd probably be so scared they'd hide under their covers, trembling!

The mere aftermath of their fight had destroyed countless places; if measured by planets, it had annihilated countless worlds.

Yet, despite the battle's ferocity and Hong Jun's overwhelming strike, Rahula still did not perish. After all, the West was Rahula's stronghold, and he had long prepared many contingencies.

Hong Jun also knew in his heart that the longer this dragged on, the more disadvantageous it became for him, as controlling multiple treasures had already pushed his Mana to the brink of exhaustion.