Zong Shen did not move recklessly.
Yet the ground beneath his feet cracked inch by inch.
Spider web-like fissures spread for more than ten meters.
The orc chieftain's phantom staggered back a step. The black-and-gold light coiling around its battle axe flickered violently, waxing and waning.
Gugash's chanting came to an abrupt halt.
The black crystalline vertical eye on its forehead stared fixedly at Zong Shen.
Purple-black flames leaped wildly within it as it found Zong Shen's performance utterly unbelievable.
It could not understand why this outsider could shake the Ancestor's Soul projection, strengthened by nightmare energy, in a contest of pure strength.
But Zong Shen gave it little time to think.
Before the aftershocks of the clashes had fully faded, the gray longsword in his hand abruptly changed forms, shifting from a Block into an upward diagonal slash.
The gray-white blade traced an exceedingly simple arc, cutting straight into the point where the battle axe connected to the phantom's arm.
Then, the space there was slowly torn apart.
The chieftain phantom's axe-wielding right arm began to blur and turn transparent from the elbow onward.
In the end, it completely vanished.
The strange energy that made up the arm—including part of the golden ancestral power and a great amount of purple-black Nightmare Erosion—was forcibly dismantled and annihilated by the power of chaos.
The phantom let out an enraged roar.
Its remaining left arm clenched into a fist and, carrying its residual power, smashed toward Zong Shen's head.
Wherever the force of the punch passed, even the images flowing across the inner walls of the barrier briefly distorted.
Yet Zong Shen did not look up.
He merely casually raised his left hand and steadily caught the enormous fist, which was powerful enough to shatter a hill.
Fist and palm collided, producing