Chi Wuyao's face was grim. She had expected this. Calculated it.
But seeing it... the sheer, qualitative difference in power... it changed the equation.
"Xiao Mo. You are next."
The quiet youth, Xiao Mo, flinched. He looked at the cheering Devil Gods, at the broken form of Xia Yuanba, and at the terrified faces of the survivors.
"Profoundly... undesirable," he sighed. He took off his strange headphones, tucked them into his shirt, and with a look of utter resignation, his figure flickered, appearing on the battlefield.
His opponent was a different Devil God, this one specializing in soul attacks and phantom speed.
"Another insect," the Devil God hissed. "This will be quick."
"I truly wish to avoid conflict," Xiao Mo said, bowing politely.
"My wife is waiting for me to return home with profound... punctuality. This entire affair is a significant detour."
The Devil God stared, genuinely confused. "Madness. Die."
The Devil God vanished, appearing directly behind Xiao Mo, its claws slashing at his soul.
The God Realm survivors cried out. But the claws passed through empty air.
Xiao Mo was gone, reappearing a thousand miles away, his back to his opponent.
"A foe strikes with malice, but the wind has no home," Xiao Mo murmured to the empty void.
The battle became a terrifying game of cat and mouse.
The Devil God unleashed a hurricane of attacks—shadow lances, soul-piercing shrieks, spatial tears.
It moved faster than light, its rage growing with every missed blow.
And Xiao Mo... simply wasn't there.
He drifted, he stepped sideways, he vanished and reappeared, all while muttering his strange, poetic nonsense.