Chapter 1779

This name is truly beautiful, but unfortunately, Ximen Wudi will never get to appreciate such a wonderful sight.

He wasn't humiliated by being hung up—after all, he was long accustomed to being suspended and whipped, and being beaten black and blue wasn't new to him.

"Alright, you can tell me why you did this?" Ximen Wudi asked.

He knew that, given the King of the Underworld's nature, if he had decided to act, he must have prepared thoroughly; otherwise, he would never risk exposure by coming here to find him.

Nightingale fixed her eyes on Ximen Wudi: "This is a challenge duel."

"A duel? With Zeus?"

Upon hearing this, Ximen Wudi felt an overwhelming bitterness.

He had thought he had grown strong enough, yet he never expected both the Sun God and the Flower of the Dark World to challenge him simultaneously.

This is truly difficult indeed.

If Ximen Wudi wins, then Zeus will bear the pressure from the King of the Underworld and the Flower of the Dark World.

This is a deal—but will Zeus agree?

"This is a gamble: if you win, the Dark World will become the dominant power in the Western Dark World; if you lose, I will sever all of Zeus's ties for him, allowing him to be utterly free, never again bound by anything," Nightingale continued.

Though these words sounded calm, they carried a thick undercurrent of lethal intent.

Ximen Wudi took several deep breaths: "I refuse."

He refused without hesitation.

"I advise you to think it over," Nightingale glanced at Ximen Wudi: "You're no match for Zeus. I helped you this time—but next time? You might die on his blade. Do you believe me?"

"This time, even if you don't help, I'll still die—but I'd rather take the gamble," Ximen Wudi narrowed his eyes: "Zeus owes me a lot of money. I want to collect it."

Nightingale shook her head and sighed softly: "Ah, you're all stubborn donkeys, always digging into corners."

Ximen Wudi smiled faintly: "You're not us. You don't understand."

Nightingale didn't immediately answer Ximen Wudi's question; instead, she fell silent for a full minute before saying: "Isn't there a Chinese poem that says, 'Each generation produces its own talents, each dominating the scene for centuries'?"

Ximen Wudi nodded: "Yes. I think this phrase suits you perfectly."

Nightingale smiled: "I agree with this phrase, because… this time, China has also produced many geniuses—all worthy of my respect."

"Of course, China always produces talent," Ximen Wudi said, raising his head: "That line was written by Old Man Zhang Aiguo. I've read it."

"You really are cultured."

"Hmm, but that line is meant for ordinary people," Ximen Wudi said coolly: "For us, talent matters—but effort matters more. Pushing upward through relentless effort, you'll inevitably encounter certain things. You won't turn back until you hit the southern wall—even if you bleed profusely, you stubbornly cling to the path in your heart."

He paused, then added: "Especially… this path is extremely arduous."

"I know your road is winding and rough," Nightingale whispered: "But why not give it a try? I want to try too—if I lose, you can reclaim Zeus's debt to you, and even seize the entire Dark World. I'll help you."

Here, Nightingale's voice rang clearly in Ximen Wudi's ear: "Don't refuse me—it brings you no harm."

Ximen Wudi smirked: "So, should I thank you?"

"I don't need your gratitude," Nightingale's tone remained icy: "My target is Zeus, the Dark World—not you. You'd better cooperate with me now, or your life may vanish at any moment."

"No, beautiful Miss," Ximen Wudi's lips curled into a faint smile: "You've misunderstood one thing. I won't let anyone threaten my life—and this time, I won't give up either."

"Oh? Then I'm truly looking forward to it," Nightingale gazed at Ximen Wudi, her eyes revealing a clarity so striking it was breathtaking: "Don't let me down."

"Same here," Ximen Wudi grinned: "I hope you don't disappoint me, my friend—otherwise, your life will be permanently ended."

When he smiled, his teeth were white, yet within that brilliant grin lay a ruthless edge.

Nightingale silently watched Ximen Wudi, then removed her wide-brimmed hat.

She revealed her full head of golden hair.

That jet-black hair, like a waterfall, perfectly matched her snow-white, slender neck and her figure.

Ximen Wudi saw her face—and for an instant, he was dazed; this beautiful woman seemed to merge with someone from his memories!

"Does it feel familiar?" Nightingale saw through his expression: "Actually, from the moment you left the Dark Jesus Temple, our fates became intertwined."

This statement surprised Ximen Wudi slightly, but he didn't dwell on it; instead, he narrowed his eyes and said coldly: "That's not my future. I have no interest in walking the path of Dark Jesus."

"I said we'll create the future together," Nightingale said calmly: "Zeus and Gosalin are both Dark Jesus."

Her tone was clear, each word striking like a hammer against Ximen Wudi's heart.

"Regardless, tonight's victor will be only one," Nightingale said, gripping her blade's hilt, the scabbard held horizontally across her chest: "Between us, there is only life and death."

"You want to kill me?" Ximen Wudi asked.

"We're enemies, aren't we?"

Without another word, Nightingale raised her blade and slashed toward Ximen Wudi!

Clang!

Ximen Wudi drew his combat knife and met her strike.

Yet this time, he didn't stand his ground—he used her force to leap upward and jumped toward the window!

"You can't escape."

Seeing this, Nightingale stomped the ground violently and shot forward like an arrow!

Both moved at blinding speed, vanishing around the street corner in the blink of an eye!

…………

"Damn bastard, how dare you hit my ass!"

Zeus was lying in bed, napping, when suddenly his cheek burned as if on fire—he reached up to touch it and nearly burst into tears.

A clear fingerprint was unmistakably visible on his left cheek!

The man's mental fortitude was indeed extraordinary—he'd just been slapped, yet immediately fell back asleep.

But because the slaps had been so brutal, his sleep was terrible; when he woke, the bruise hadn't faded—it had swollen even worse.

Such injuries will likely require a week of rest.

"That Apollo is truly annoying!" Zeus roared in anger, then picked up his phone and dialed the strategist.

However, to Zeus's frustration, the strategist's phone rang out with a shutdown message.

That woman is definitely hiding somewhere to watch the show!

"I really want to strangle her!" Zeus muttered under his breath, then changed clothes and began to shower.

Yet, when he finished showering, dressed, and opened the door, he found a man sitting in the living room, his back to the entrance, standing by the window.

"Zeus, congratulations on your victory," the man said.

"Who are you? How did you get into my room?" Zeus frowned and asked.

His vigilance was extremely high; at this moment, he instinctively reached for his gun.

The man turned around and looked at Zeus: "Don't be tense. I've come to offer my blessings."

The man appeared to be around forty, dressed in a black robe, yet his features were strikingly handsome.

His nose was high and straight, his eyebrows slanted sharply, his temples were streaked with gray, his eye sockets deeply set, and every part of him radiated an aura of wisdom.

The man's name is Ximen Wudi.

1689 was utterly straightforward.

"You are the newly crowned King of Gods of the Dark World?" Zeus looked at Ximen Wudi, his voice calm and devoid of any emotion.

"I once was the King of Gods of the Dark World," Ximen Wudi said slowly. "But since your coronation, you have become the Father of Gods."

Here, he paused, then continued: "Perhaps you'd be willing to give me a hug?"

"There should be no hugging between us," Zeus said coolly. "If you've come to chat, be my guest. I'm sure your brothers and sisters back at Dark Jesus Palace will miss you dearly."

This speech was flawless, utterly straightforward.

Upon hearing this, Ximen Wudi smiled faintly, then suddenly rose into the air!

Shu!

A flash of cold light shot instantly from Ximen Wudi's hand, aimed straight at Zeus's throat!

It was a snowflake.

Amid the icy wind, this single snowflake carried intense killing intent.