Chapter 426: Out of Control

The Prophet's Avatar lowered his gaze slightly, and his eyes instantly swirled with a pale blue radiance.

With a "whooo" sound, a gale rose from nowhere, sweeping the surroundings, lifting all scattered items, spiraling them into the open bronze-colored gate.

Xiya's gaze turned solemn as she surveyed the area and sighed helplessly, "There are too many reflective objects; we can't even dismantle all the glass on this ship."

"Moreover, our eyes can act as mirrors; only someone with a half‑god‑tier distortion ability could outright negate the presence of mirrors on the ship."

"We just need to clear the area around us and ensure the out‑of‑control monster doesn't suddenly burst out from beside us."

The Prophet's Avatar explained in a low voice, while the howling wind around him whistled, rattling every window on the ship as if they might be torn off at any moment.

Phoenix closed his eyes slightly, as if communicating with something mysterious inside his body; moments later, a massive mass of merged translucent phantoms surged out from within him.

It did not emit frequent shrieks; instead it kept trembling, shedding strands of transparent phantoms. These split phantoms possessed all the traits of ordinary phantoms, and they passed straight through the deck into the cabin.

With mirror‑jumping ability, they easily identified objects that could serve as mirrors, enveloped the smaller fragments within themselves, and sent the fragments through the bronze gate into the Underworld.

"This ship is really hard to dismantle; I even thought of just sinking it outright."

The Prophet's Avatar muttered softly, as the whistling gale swept countless shards of glass into the air and then flung them into the bronze gate.

The glass, mirrors, metal, and all reflective items floating in the gale suddenly grew dim and profound, a faint darkness as if their interiors were linked to a deep, shadowy void.

In the next instant, countless strands of hair burst from the mirrors, intertwining into thumb‑thick tentacles that fluttered in the gale, forming a black sea of twisted tendrils.

Anything caught within them inevitably became coated with a gray‑white layer, rapidly weathering and dispersing.

Within this black sea, limbs continuously sprouted, large or small, all taking the form of strikingly beautiful women.

They rose and fell within the writhing black tentacles, each bearing a different expression—some pleading anxiously, others moaning seductively. All exuded an indescribable allure, be it pure, coquettish, bold, shy, or fiery, making one yearn to sink into them.

The Prophet's Avatar watched the black hair strands that nearly covered the gale and the humanoids within, and his foot involuntarily stepped back.

In his sight, those humanoids undulating among the hair were essentially a conglomerate of occult viruses and bacteria; even as a half‑god, touching them would cause the skin to shed.

His eyes' pale blue radiance suddenly flared, simulating a half‑god‑tier storm ability derived from the Sea God's Scepter.

The surrounding wind suddenly intensified; the fierce gusts collided with the air, producing an explosive roar, and a terrifying, visible hurricane began to swirl.

Circulating air currents spun rapidly, lifting the black tentacles formed from the hair and the humanoids among them into the air, then swiftly hurling them into the rattling bronze-colored gate.

"Cough— cough—" Phoenix, straining to hold the bronze gate, suddenly began coughing uncontrollably, the cough growing worse, causing the bronze gate itself to wobble precariously.

A wash of pale blue flickered in Xiya's eyes as she examined Phoenix, quickly spotting the issue; her brows furrowed slightly as she said in a solemn tone, "You're ill—pneumonia, respiratory infection, fever, and your blood is gradually deteriorating."

"Just endure a bit; the Solar Domain's purifying power will affect you to some extent as well."

"Cough— it's fine," Phoenix's voice turned hoarse; after that brief reply he fell silent.

The pale blue in Xiya's eyes brightened instantly; she raised her hand, summoning a holy, descending, bright, pure, warm radiance.

A faint golden hue washed over her, her fiery red hair fluttered wildly in the wind, as if bathed in sunset, bearing a hint of sanctity.

Bright yellow light radiated from her as the center, expanding outward in concentric circles, purifying the air of viruses and bacteria while delivering warmth and fierce courage.

"Cough—" Phoenix let out a light cough, his brows knitting in discomfort.

The purifying aura on him turned the gentle warmth into a scorching sting; the Solar Domain's purifying power, while cleansing his viruses, also purged the lingering death aura from his body.

Boom! Boom! Clusters of ice and flame detonated within the storm, the massive impact nearly causing the Prophet's Avatar to lose control of the hovering hurricane.

The hair strands seized by the gale had twisted into snake‑like black tentacles, intertwining in the air to form a massive black rope studded with eyes and countless beautiful women of varying sizes.

Beneath the black rope, thick black tentacles reached into the interior of the bronze gate, slapping and tugging as if wrestling, as if something on the other side of the gate in the Underworld was trying to drag them in.

"Beyond this gate lies an Underworld region with a Feathered Snake, left there by my father; it will help us pull this out‑of‑control monster inside."

Phoenix's complexion turned slightly pale as he explained.

The Prophet's Avatar gave a slight nod, then transformed the swirling hurricane into tangible restraints and invisible wind blades, imprisoning the massive black rope in midair, attempting to slice it.

"Wooo— please, spare me."

"Ah" "Don't kill me. Don't kill me."

"Please, you"

The beautiful women sprouting from the black rope emitted pleading cries mixed with moans, tears streaming from their lovely faces, cheeks flushed with sobbing, their breaths shallow and rapid.

The Prophet's Avatar continued his motions expressionlessly, but with little effect; the massive rope inherited the immortal witch's formidable vitality and uncanny resilience, the invisible wind‑blade cuts healing almost instantly.

A moment later, he halted, applying a psychologist's 'soothing' to himself; even in a perfectly rational state, the incessant moaning pleas stirred lingering emotions and desires within him, his lower body beginning to engorge.

"Trouble," he sighed lightly, then summoned a gust that lifted his body into the heights.

Dark clouds in the sky suddenly gathered in layers, quickly obscuring the Crimson Moon.

Silver‑white bolts of lightning slashed the silent night sky, illuminating the sea and shattering the hidden veil, bearing a wrathful, destructive aura as they struck the massive rope covered with beautiful women of all sizes.

The lightning abruptly fragmented, turning into countless tiny electric serpents that darted through the black rope and its tentacles reaching into the bronze gate.

The intense paralysis prevented it from resisting, and the Feathered Snake on the other side of the bronze gate dragged it a considerable distance, leaving it less than fifty meters from the gate's interior.

A "whooo" of wind rose again, the sudden fierce gale like an invisible giant hand pushing the massive black rope forward.

At that moment, Xiya stepped forward two paces, leaned back, arms spread wide as if embracing the sun.

A grand, pure, blazing pillar of light descended from the heavens, enveloping the surroundings; the Solar Domain's power continuously seared the various forms on the rope, causing the eyes sprouting there to shut.

With little resistance, the black rope of entwined tentacles was shoved straight to the bronze gate.

Then the Prophet's Avatar awkwardly realized the rope was so large that it blocked the bronze gate entirely.

Xiya glanced back at the increasingly pale Phoenix, loudly urging, "Disperse it; the 'gate' can't hold much longer."

As she spoke, golden illusory flames spontaneously ignited around her, exuding a massive solar aura, dense and continuous like a sea, surging toward the black rope like waves, engulfing the eyes and silhouettes upon it.

The Prophet's Avatar commanded the surrounding wind, descended, then clenched his fist, swung his arm, merging his body with a strange force, launching an afterimage from within that struck the massive black rope cloaked in golden flame.

A deep, imposing word in Ancient Hermes language echoed around, "Death!"

Like a proclamation, the black rope, saturated with madness and chaotic aura, froze for a moment before succumbing to uncontrollable decay.

Sizzle! Sizzle! Illusory tearing sounds rang out, as if the very space around sprouted countless fissures; the golden flame took on a rust‑red hue, and the air filled with a pungent sulfur smell.

This secret technique, forged from the Judgment Knight's decree and the demon's defiling words, lacks direct destructive force but can inexorably drive non‑divine beings toward death; even a half‑god hit directly would suffer severe injury.

The strike succeeded in causing the rope of snake‑like black tentacles to unravel, scattering numerous black tentacles bearing eyes and naked female forms.

At this moment, the bronze gate emitted a terrifying suction, like a huge beast inhaling, and the massive black strand was sucked halfway in.

Only a scattered clump of pitch-black tentacles remained struggling; some wrapped around the gate's frame, some extended outward, entwining the ship's rail and deck, even the sails.

The howling wind bore the Prophet's Avatar's body down beside Phoenix; he turned his head and asked, "Can we directly close this gate?"

Phoenix stared for a moment, then nodded and said, "Yes."

As he spoke, he stretched out his palm forward; the bronze gate covered in mysterious patterns creaked and shook, and without any closing motion it simply faded away.

Papapa! Papapa! The sound of heavy objects falling rang out; the pitch-black tentacles that had been entwining the bronze gate and the ship, struggling fiercely, went limp and drooped, and at their ends there was a neat cut, as if sliced by an extremely sharp blade.

Xiya didn't even glance at those neatly severed tentacles, walking straight to a still-intact section of the ship's rail and leaning on it, she exclaimed:

"Heh, you've gotten much smarter—you all know to just close the gate, using the severed space to cut it, not only can you harvest some high-rank attributes, but also weaken the part of its body that fell into the Underworld."

The Prophet's Avatar paid no heed to Xiya's teasing, gazing into the cabin with deep eyes; a flash of his inspiration could at this moment stir my spirit—could it be that Witch Card?

Muttering to himself, he raised his hand in a gesture to open a door; a wisp of azure drifted by, and a water‑curtain‑like insubstantial blurred gate appeared before him, the other side of the gate being a layered dimness, an unreal space.

He glanced into the mirror world within the gate, then stepped straight inside.

The surroundings suddenly became deep and secluded; nothing here felt truly real, with countless passages interconnecting like a dense spiderweb, layer upon layer, with no end in sight.

(End of chapter)