Chapter Eighty-Five: The Supreme Deity

The seven clan leaders were momentarily stunned into inaction. Among them, Chief Bolin couldn’t help but speak in a low voice, “Are you a Highgod Paragon?”

“Paragon?” Qiankun paused, then shook his head with a wry, mocking smile. “I haven’t reached the Paragon level yet, so you all can try again. Who knows, you might really have a chance to kill me. Don’t give up! Come on! Continue!”

The seven clan chiefs felt their faces twitch, cursing inwardly. Was this man insane?

But at this point, they were riding a tiger and could not dismount. Even though they felt uncertain, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and continue fighting Qiankun.

What followed was a spectacular and intense battle—one of the fiercest imaginable—seven formidable Shuras besieging a single man. Such a fight was rare even across all the divine planes and the supreme plane. Yet, for the onlookers of the Edrick family, there was no sense of excitement or thrill. The longer the battle dragged on, the more chilled and fearful they felt.

Heavens, what had they witnessed? The heads of the seven great families, joining forces, were unable to do anything against Qiankun alone. Just how terrifyingly powerful was this mysterious expert? That such a being existed in Hell upended everything they thought they knew.

The seven clan chiefs themselves grew more alarmed and frustrated as the fight went on, some even beginning to feel real fear. It took them back to the day they faced Beirut—how, armed with just a black staff, he easily injured them all one after another, utterly unmatched. Though Beirut was not a Paragon, his deterrent power was no less.

Now, facing Qiankun, they felt the same. Qiankun’s body was as monstrously strong as Beirut’s. As for the soul, not only was it nearly impossible for them to attack him simultaneously, but even if they could, he could withstand the soul assaults of two or even three of them wielding Sovereign power without the slightest harm, all without using any Sovereign power himself. They were now all but certain Qiankun possessed a soul-protecting Sovereign artifact. An invincible soul defense, an indestructible body—how were they supposed to fight that?

Moreover, as the battle went on, Bolin and the others noticed that Qiankun wasn’t even using any artifacts—he fought them barehanded, yet they felt utterly outclassed. It was clear Qiankun didn’t intend to go all out, or he would have defeated them individually long ago.

After a long while, as he began to grow bored, Qiankun suddenly unleashed his power, striking out with seven punches that sent all seven clan chiefs flying in disarray. Except for those protected by Sovereign armor, all coughed up blood from severe injuries.

“Haha… Exhilarating! That was a splendid fight, thank you all for your company!” Qiankun laughed heartily, then flew off.

As Qiankun departed, the battered and humiliated clan chiefs gathered together once more, exchanging glances and finally letting out helpless, bitter laughs of relief.

“Could he really have come just to spar with us?” rumbled the giant-like chief of the Barbary family.

Bolin’s face was grim, his eyes still flickering with disbelief. “Too strong! He didn’t even use artifacts, and we were nowhere near his match. Even if he hasn’t reached Paragon, he must be very close.”

“Another Beirut…” murmured the Underworld Serpent, chief of the Ashcroft family from the Netherworld, his tone laden with bitterness.

The other clan chiefs fell silent. This battle was just like their encounter with Beirut in the Celestial Sacrifice Mountains; once again, their pride was crushed, and fear grew in their hearts—the dread of facing a true top-tier expert. Yes, they were among the strongest in Hell, but there were always those even stronger—existences who could kill them effortlessly.

...

By a stream amid some secluded mountains, Qiankun sat quietly on the grass, digesting the insights and gains from the battle.

“Hmm?” A shiver ran through him, and he abruptly opened his eyes, instinctively looking up. In that instant, an overwhelming sense of danger descended. He saw a whirlwind suddenly appear in midair, the surrounding trees vanishing into nothingness without a sound. Then, a figure materialized within the vortex.

It was a silver-haired man with a hooked nose and narrow, blade-like eyes whose very gaze sent a chill through the soul.

The silver-haired man looked down at Qiankun with detached arrogance, a faint smile curving his lips. “Qiankun, is it? You killed Reynars, and even when beset by the chiefs of the seven great families, you toyed with them with ease. Even if you’re not yet a Paragon, you’re certainly close. Tell me, are you interested in becoming my Sovereign’s Emissary?”

“Sovereign’s Emissary?” Qiankun was taken aback, staring wide-eyed at the man. “You… you’re a Sovereign?”

The silver-haired man smiled without replying, but a hazy cyan radiance erupted from him, and a terrifying, majestic aura swept outwards, causing Qiankun to shudder all over. The danger sensed by his soul grew even stronger. This was the might of a Sovereign. No matter how strong a god, before a Sovereign, they were but ants.

“Qiankun greets the Sovereign!” Regaining his composure, Qiankun quickly rose and bowed slightly to the silver-haired man.

“You haven’t answered me yet. Will you become my Sovereign’s Emissary?” the man pressed.

Qiankun’s eyes flashed as he asked, “I still don’t know which Sovereign you are!”

“I am the Sovereign of Wind—Teresia,” the silver-haired man said coldly.

Teresia? Qiankun was stunned again. The name was familiar—wasn’t this the one who tried to seize the Supreme Divine Token from Linley, and later attacked in the chaotic space stream when Beirut was escorting Linley and Bebe back to the Yulan Plane from Okarun? Wasn’t he the first Sovereign Linley hunted down after becoming a Sovereign himself? This fellow was nothing good—a mere Lesser Sovereign, yet with grand ambitions.

“What, you’re unwilling to be my Emissary?” Teresia’s tone darkened as he saw Qiankun hesitate, irritation clear in his voice.

Startled, Qiankun quickly recovered and replied with a smile, “Of course not! I’m just surprised and delighted. To be chosen by the Sovereign is my honor. I am willing to be your Emissary.”

“Good.” Teresia’s expression softened and he nodded in satisfaction. “Tell me, what kind of Sovereign artifact do you need?”

After a moment’s thought, Qiankun replied with a smile, “Sovereign, please grant me an offensive Sovereign artifact—a sword, if possible!”

“An offensive Sovereign sword? Very well, I shall grant you one.” Teresia nodded, murmuring to himself, and with a wave of his hand, a slender, pale cyan sword appeared. Even at rest, the sword’s invisible aura distorted the surrounding space, a clear sign of its formidable power.

Qiankun’s eyes lit up as he gratefully accepted the sword. “Thank you, Sovereign!”

Outwardly, he appeared excited, but inwardly, Qiankun considered Teresia a great fool. After all, Teresia would be killed by Linley sooner or later, so why not accept a Sovereign artifact first? Once Teresia was dead, he’d be free to do as he wished. Besides, serving as a Sovereign’s Emissary did not require him to stay by Teresia’s side at all times; he would still enjoy considerable freedom. It was a good deal.

Unaware of Qiankun’s scheming, Teresia was quite pleased to gain such a powerful Emissary. Generous, he not only granted Qiankun the Sovereign sword, but also gave him one hundred drops each of Wind, Earth, and Water Sovereign power, knowing Qiankun specialized in earth and water laws.

For a Sovereign, gathering Sovereign power of other elements was no great challenge. For a Sovereign, it was an inexhaustible energy, easily drawn from the deepest parts of the elemental seas, whereas gods found it much harder to absorb divine power from the surface.