Chapter 272: The Shadow Master Appears

The probing divine thought that came forward, after hitting the wall, not only did not retreat but, like a slick poisonous snake, coiled once and then wound around again.

This time, it was no longer a pure examination; instead it added a cat‑catching‑mouse‑like tease, as if wanting to see how thick this suddenly appearing "wall" truly was.

Li Hu and Zhang Mei's complexion grew a few shades paler.

If the first was a blow to the head, the second was a cold surgical knife, pressed against their souls, scraping leisurely, trying to find the most vulnerable gap.

"Damn it, when will it end?" Li Hu muttered, the veins on the back of his knife‑gripping hand bulging.

Wang Zhitao, carefree as ever, clicked his tongue with interest: "Brother, this guy seems to be greeting you, just not in a friendly way."

"Greeting?" Wang Zhize let out a light hum, not loud, yet carrying a strange frequency that made the surrounding air pause.

He didn't even lift his eyes, only his divine thought flickered slightly.

The incessantly entangling, oppressive divine thought, the moment it met Wang Zhize's counter, felt like ice and snow under a scorching sun.

No, even more thorough than that.

It was as if its definition had been fundamentally altered; a moment ago it was a soul‑snatching blade, the next it became a harmless breeze brushing the face, then vanished like smoke.

Puff.

Li Hu felt the massive stone pressing on his heart disappear instantly, his whole body relaxed, and he couldn't help but laugh out loud.

From the deepest part of the stronghold, a clear "eh?" rang out, tinged with an uncontrollable astonishment.

Immediately after, heavy footsteps came from afar, growing nearer.

A figure slowly stepped out of the darkness.

The newcomer wore a black robe embroidered with intricate dark‑gold silk patterns, emitting a faint glow under the dim lights.

His face was gaunt, cheekbones high, lips thin, yet his eyes shone terrifyingly, like a night‑time hawk, fixed firmly on the four standing in the shadows.

The moment he appeared, the stronghold's aura shifted; the patrolling black‑clad assassins halted, bowed, their expressions solemn.

He is the "Shadow Master" here, Ying Jiao.

Ying Jiao's gaze swept over Li Hu and Zhang Mei, then lingered no more.

To him, those two were merely sturdier ants, unworthy of mention.

His eyes finally rested on Wang Zhize and Wang Zhitao, his brows involuntarily knitting.

The two youths: one's aura was restrained like the Abyss, depth indiscernible; the other resembled an uncivilized beast, exuding a primal, unsettling hunger.

"Who are you?" Ying Jiao asked, his voice hoarse as two pieces of sandpaper rubbing, "Trespassing my 'Shadow' stronghold, what do you intend?"

Li Hu instinctively wanted to retort, but Zhang Mei grabbed his arm.

He saw Wang Zhize step forward, emerging from the shadows, calmly facing the Shadow Master.

"Who we are doesn't matter." Wang Zhize's tone was calm, as if stating a fact, "What matters is that you are Ying Jiao, at the early stage of the Transforming God realm, specializing in the 'Illusion' and 'Reality‑Illusion' laws, the highest authority of this border stronghold. Here you handle escorting, assassinating, and… gathering special 'materials' for your 'master.'"

With each sentence he spoke, Ying Jiao's pupils contracted a notch.

When Wang Zhize finished, a crack finally appeared on Ying Jiao's otherwise placid, well‑like‑a‑well face.

These pieces of information are the stronghold's top secret; how did this young man know them?

Wang Zhize seemed oblivious to his reaction and continued, "Not long ago, members of your 'Shadow' acted against my grandfather."

He said it lightly, yet the chill it carried made the whole space feel several degrees colder.

"So it's revenge," Ying Jiao said, seeming to sigh in relief, his face regaining its cold indifference, "Killers always kill. Since you came seeking death, I will fulfill you."

Before the words finished, his entire figure suddenly became blurry.

"Watch out!" Zhang Mei shouted.

The next instant, Ying Jiao's silhouette split in two, then four, then eight… In the blink of an eye, dozens of identical Ying Jiao emerged from all directions, encircling the four of them.

Each Ying Jiao radiated genuine murderous intent, each appearing as the true form, making it impossible to tell which was real.

"Damn! How do we fight this? It's like stabbing a mouse nest!" Li Hu's scalp tingled, his knife buzzing, yet he didn't know which one to slash.

"Brother! This one's good! This one looks so abundant!" Wang Zhitao's eyes shone terrifyingly; he excitedly licked his lips, saliva nearly spilling, "So many, enough for me to eat several meals! Each one smells so fragrant!"

These phantasms, condensed by the power of the laws, were, to Wang Zhitao's perception, pure energy feasts.

Ying Jiao's voice rang out from all sides simultaneously, bearing a lofty judgment: "In my 'Reality‑Illusion Illusory Realm,' every one of me is both real and false. How will you respond?"

Li Hu and Zhang Mei pressed their backs together, tension at its peak.

Wang Zhize, however, didn't even stir a muscle.

He simply watched the vivid, murderous phantoms around him, then, with a casual gesture, reached out and lightly grasped the empty center.

A single word slipped from his mouth.

"Reality."

"Ka… crack…"

Like the sound of a shattered mirror, a crisp crack echoed throughout the space.

The dozens of Ying Jiao surrounding them suddenly showed spider‑web cracks on their bodies without warning.

The cracks spread rapidly, and with the phantoms' terrified, twisted faces, they burst like punctured bubbles, exploding into pure energy specks that vanished into the air.

But in an instant, the sky‑filled phantoms were all destroyed.

Only a single true form remained, stumbling out of mid‑air; his face turned deathly pale, he suddenly clutched his chest, a mouthful of fresh blood spilling from his lip, his eyes filled with disbelief.

My own fundamental law, just… broken by a single sentence?

How could this be possible!

This is no longer a clash of laws; it's a crushing from a higher dimension! The Creator's absolute domination over the created!

"You… who exactly are you?!" Ying Jiao's voice trembled for the first time.

"Me?" Li Hu, staring dumbfounded beside him, muttered softly, "I damn well want to know who he is… Is this even a person? Just say something, will you?"

He felt his cultivation outlook being repeatedly ground on the floor by the two Wang brothers.

He used to think the Golden Core and Nascent Soul were the pinnacle, but now, in front of Wang Zhize, these so‑called masters are no different from paper‑thin figures.

The Shadow Owl dared no further disrespect; he knew he had encountered a great enemy unlike any he had ever faced.

He let out a roar; his black robe moved without wind, and an even more ferocious power began to burn within him—this was a fight to the death!

However, Wang Zhize was no longer prepared to give him any chance.

He turned his head and gave the command to his younger brother, who had already been impatiently waiting beside him.

"Zhitao, the time to reap has arrived."

His voice was cold, without a trace of emotion.

"This 'main dish' must not be wasted."

"Got it, brother!"

Wang Zhitao let out a snarling laugh; before his reply could finish, he had already turned into an uncatchable black shadow, bearing a ferocious aura that seemed to devour heaven and earth, and lunged fiercely toward the burning source of the Shadow Master ahead.

"Ah—!"

A scream of extreme sorrow rang through the entire stronghold, then abruptly ceased in an instant.