Twelve Gods of the Pantheon

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The tall, lanky youth's dagger slashed through the air at blinding speed.

It was clear—he was a master with the blade.

Every strike aimed for a fatal spot—either the throat or the heart.

An Yi calmly parried with his twin daggers.

But fighting with two against his opponent's one felt... undignified.

After all, he was now the leader of the Asura Sect. He had to maintain his poise.

So, An Yi quietly upgraded his dagger mastery to Lv4!

As the fight dragged on, the lanky youth's expression darkened.

The kid across from him had switched from dual daggers to a single blade—and even tucked one hand behind his back.

Damn it, he’s showing off!

"You’ve got guts, kid," the youth growled, stepping back, his face twisted in fury.

He was Qi Xiang, second only to the Twelve Deities of the Pantheon. Yet here he was, being toyed with by some punk barely in his twenties. It made his blood boil.

"Relax, I won’t strike back. As the leader of the Asura Sect, I believe in winning hearts with virtue."

An Yi deflected Qi Xiang’s attacks effortlessly, his tone casual.

The moment those words left his lips, An Yi’s plain jacket seemed to transform into a monk’s robe, radiating a holy golden aura.

"Hah! Fine, then wait for it!"

Qi Xiang retreated, his grip tightening on his dagger.

A violent surge of energy erupted from him, swirling into a miniature tornado that sent garbage flying across the dump. The chaotic debris only amplified his menacing presence.

On top of a trash pile, Lin Chen had just peeled a plastic bag off his face—only for a cardboard box to smack right into it.

Lin Chen:

He wanted to personally slaughter this bastard.

"An Yi, let’s see where you hide now!"

Qi Xiang’s muscles trembled as he channeled every ounce of his energy into the dagger. The slender blade glowed red-hot, like a branding iron.

For that moment, he felt like the ruler of the world.

His arm shook violently, veins bulging as blood seeped through his skin. This strike contained his full power—he refused to believe An Yi could block it!

"An Yi! DIE!"

With a savage grin, Qi Xiang swung—

Only to find empty air.

"Where—?!"

A chill shot down his spine.

"That’s it?"

An Yi’s voice whispered from behind him.

Qi Xiang’s face turned green.

"You damn liar! You said you wouldn’t attack!"

"Returning Dragon Slash!"

An Yi smirked.

His Soulreaver dagger traced a crimson arc, aiming straight for Qi Xiang’s neck.

Clang!

The blade struck—not flesh, but a transparent... barrier?

The impact shattered a hole straight through it.

An Yi blinked in surprise.

Seizing the opening, Qi Xiang spun around and slashed furiously at An Yi.

Unfazed, An Yi’s Dragonfang dagger morphed into the Dragonfang Demonblade, lightning crackling along its edge.

"Fourth Form of the Dragon-Slaying Nine Swords—Thunderbolt!"

"STOP!"

A towering, square-jawed man with a buzzcut appeared between them, his body encased in a translucent barrier.

"Golden Bell Shield!"

The clash of energies sent shockwaves through the dump. Trash flew like tidal waves, obscuring the sky.

Lin Chen looked up, his icy gaze searching for even a glimpse of blue.

Qi Xiang’s dagger struck the barrier, rebounding harmlessly.

An Yi’s Demonblade, crackling with lightning, pierced through—

For just a second, it held.

Then, with a ruthless thrust, the blade tore through the barrier and sank deep into the man’s right gluteus maximus.

Buzzcut Man:

An Yi sighed inwardly.

"You’re not Yan Zhi. Why stand with your back to me?"

"Now you’ve been stabbed. Serves you right."

Gasping for breath, Qi Xiang paled at the sight of the newcomer.

"Lord Wu Ma!"

Wu Ma’s cold stare bore into him.

Qi Xiang’s face turned ashen, sweat beading on his forehead.

He knew this ambush was entirely his own doing—a blatant violation of orders.

The consequences would be severe.

Without turning, Wu Ma said calmly, "Lord Night Emperor, would you mind withdrawing your sword?"

"Oh. Right."

An Yi yanked the blade free.

Schwing!

The Demonblade came out, followed by a geyser of blood.

Despite the gushing wound, Wu Ma remained composed, his expression unreadable.

"Qi Xiang, you’ve gone too far. There will be consequences for this."

He turned to An Yi and clasped his hands. "Lord Night Emperor, as Qi Xiang’s superior, I take full responsibility for this incident."

"Ah, no worries. Just a kid acting out. I’m not offended."

An Yi twirled his sword dismissively.

Qi Xiang’s face flushed red with rage.

Kid?! This bastard was five or six years younger than him!

"Your magnanimity does you honor, Lord Night Emperor. I shall personally make amends another day. Farewell."

Wu Ma bowed deeply, his dignity unshaken despite the bloody stain on his backside.

"Boss Wu Ma..."

Qi Xiang clenched his teeth, trailing behind Wu Ma, his eyes burning at the sight of his superior’s injury.

Wu Ma was the Seventh Deity of the Pantheon’s Twelve! Why should he apologize to this brat?!

"Enough humiliation. Move."

Wu Ma’s voice was icy.

Qi Xiang fell silent, following him out of the dump.

An Yi sheathed his sword, his gaze frosty.

"The Pantheon’s Twelve Deities..."

If Wu Ma was this strong, there were eleven more like him?

Once they were far enough, Wu Ma finally spoke.

"Do you see the gap between you and An Yi now?"

Qi Xiang’s lips twisted bitterly.

At twenty-four, he’d reached the Void Realm, hailed as the Pantheon’s top genius. Yet compared to An Yi, he was nothing.

Wu Ma’s Golden Bell Shield had reached the pinnacle—materializing energy into form.

Even in three years, Qi Xiang doubted he could break it as effortlessly as An Yi had.

"Your reckless attack won’t stay hidden. The Pantheon will know."

Wu Ma sighed.

"I’ll face the consequences myself," Qi Xiang said grimly.

Wu Ma glanced back. "Can you still see An Yi?"

Qi Xiang shook his head.

Only then did Wu Ma exhale—before collapsing to his knees, sticking his butt out.

His once-powerful glutes had swollen into a grotesque mound, like a Mongolian tent.

"That scheming little bastard... poisoned his blade."

Wu Ma punched the ground, snarling in pain.

Whatever toxin it was, it burned like hell. Half his body was numb.

Qi Xiang panicked. "Boss, you’re poisoned! Let me suck out the—"

Wu Ma’s silent stare made him freeze.

Qi Xiang’s face turned green.

"Yamate..."