Mountain-River Wanderer stood on the podium, constantly retreating as a ray of magical radiance transformed into a scarlet, corporeal magic orb that circled him.
As the progenitor god of the Sea King World, Mountain-River Wanderer sensed his Spirit Macro being drawn away by the orb. Countless Spirit Macros transformed into azure light and shadow, flowing past him like fleeting white steeds. Mountain-River Wanderer burst into hearty laughter. He felt so relaxed, as though his entire body and soul had been cleansed.
Mountain-River Wanderer threw back his head and laughed.
"Refreshing, refreshing. Wizard Locke Augustine, I must reward you properly. Helen, he really is an outstanding Potion Master."
"Wait—"
Mountain-River Wanderer looked at his white-radish tentacles in confusion. His eyes were filled with bewilderment. "Why hasn't it stopped? Isn't this too much? My power is all being drawn away."
At this moment, with the magic orb as its core, the gathered Spirit Macro formed another Mountain-River Wanderer.
This Mountain-River Wanderer had the magic pressure of an ordinary Second Ring, only slightly above ten thousand.
The copy of Mountain-River Wanderer stared wide-eyed at the original, and the copy was actually still stealing the original's Spirit Macro. An azure torrent of Spirit Macro connected the two of them, with countless azure lights flowing through it.
The original Mountain-River Wanderer glared at the copy created by the bottle of Doppelgänger Potion refined by Locke.
"What's wrong with you? You're my copy. You should be under my control. You only need to absorb the chronic illness from my body. How can you compete with me for power?"
The other Mountain-River Wanderer's eyes revealed deep malice.
"Who says you're the original? Once you die, won't I become the original? If I absorb all the Spirit Macro in your body, why can't I become the original?"
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