Amidst the black mist, a boundless roar of surging waves spontaneously erupted, yet no matter how tempestuous the surging tide became, upon contacting the imposing Guandao held in He Yiming’s hands, it would falter, fragmenting until it could no longer sustain itself.

He Yiming’s eyes shone with brilliant vitality; in this exchange with his opponent, he had gleaned much.

Although Zhu Guanhhao wielded the endless power of the tide, He Yiming discovered numerous techniques within it that he could adapt. Applying these principles to his Wind and Fire arts would surely elevate their destructive capacity.

To have such a worthy opponent for sparring was an opportunity he eagerly embraced.

With a slight shift in thought, the blade of his Guandao flicked, sending a gust of wind blowing precisely in the opposite direction.

The next moment, Zhu Guanhhao watched in horror as within the sphere of his own elemental influence, another wind suddenly manifested. This opposing wind possessed a power that stood in absolute contrast to the wind he was commanding.

It was as if looking into a mirror; whatever maneuver his wind executed, the wind in the reflection would mimic it exactly, duplicating the action perfectly.

In mere moments, the towering, crashing waves vanished. Though potent Water energy still permeated the space, stripped of the wind’s propulsion, it became stagnant, dead water, utterly devoid of life.

Zhu Guanhhao’s face was ashen. He had never imagined that anyone in this world could command the force of wind to such an extreme degree.

If a Venerable Master of the Wind element had displayed such a skill, he would not have been surprised. But since this person had entered the Howling Ghost Ridge, he could not possibly be a Venerable.

For a master at the pinnacle of the Tripod level to command the Wind element with such mastery was truly an astonishing, almost unbelievable feat.

What Zhu Guanhhao failed to grasp was that He Yiming possessed not only the mastery of Fusion arts, but he had achieved this integration relying purely on his own capabilities, not by borrowing power from some divine artifact to meld two disparate attributes.

Precisely because Zhu Guanhhao relied on the power of the Wind and Water Treasure Fan, the Wind and Water energies he manifested followed a discernible pattern. After sparring for a time, He Yiming immediately grasped the most critical points; sensing the subtle changes in Zhu Guanhhao's true essence, he could predict the trajectory of the subsequent Wind and Water power. This allowed him to wield the power of wind with such consummate skill, nearly terrifying Zhu Guanhhao out of his wits.

Moments later, He Yiming roared, spinning his massive Guandao with just one hand.

He was using the Guandao as if it were his opponent’s very fan. The colossal blade, over four meters long, appeared even more flexible and versatile in his grip than the Wind and Water Treasure Fan in Zhu Guanhhao’s hands.

After only a brief interval, a massive vortex materialized, centered entirely on He Yiming.

Amplified by the Guandao, the resulting power surpassed even that unleashed by the Wind and Water Treasure Fan.

Zhu Guanhhao looked utterly defeated. When He Yiming manifested that potent wind technique, Zhu Guanhhao’s confidence had already been nearly shattered. Now, to see He Yiming use the Guandao to replicate his own proudest ultimate skill—it was the final straw, stripping away the last vestiges of confidence and pride from Zhu Guanhhao’s heart without mercy.

At this moment, Zhu Guanhhao was utterly disheartened. Though not driven to absolute madness, his state was little better.

For a martial artist, suffering such a profound blow could even conjure thoughts of death.

He Yiming maintained his hand position, increasing the rotational force until it reached its absolute zenith.

A power too immense to resist suddenly surged outward. Zhu Guanhhao could no longer maintain his grip; the Wind and Water Treasure Fan collided with He Yiming’s Guandao, only to be firmly seized by an unbelievable suction emanating from the blade, forcibly wrested from his grasp.

Having lost the Wind and Water Treasure Fan, Zhu Guanhhao could hold back no longer. He opened his mouth and spat blood once more.

However, this time the blood was vividly crimson, not the black ichor tainted by the malignant Yin Sha energy.

With a flick of his wrist, He Yiming drew back the Guandao as swiftly as a striking viper. With a gentle brush of the blade’s tip, he transferred the captured Wind and Water Treasure Fan into his own possession.

Then, he stood quietly, observing Zhu Guanhhao, who remained frozen in place, seemingly unable to process the events that had just transpired.

A thought struck He Yiming; he did not press the attack, but spoke in a deep voice, "Zhu Guanhhao…"

His words carried a peculiar kind of power, possessing a fatal attraction and compelling force.

Zhu Guanhhao’s body shuddered. He seemed to struggle momentarily, yet also seemed unwilling to break free from the sound’s enchantment, falling into indecision.

He Yiming was inwardly delighted. While he had learned fragments of mind-confusion techniques from the Western powerhouse Romia and Xu Chengchang of the Celestial Pool, he had never undergone specialized training—it was merely half-baked, clumsy parlor trickery.

To rely on such rudimentary techniques to completely overwhelm the spirit of a master at the pinnacle of the Tripod realm like Zhu Guanhhao was as impossible as expecting his current self—with only a fifth-level internal strength cultivation—to defeat the He Yiming holding the Guandao right now.

But at this moment, Zhu Guanhhao had just pulled back from the brink of madness, only to suffer the most devastating defeat of his life; his most prized martial technique had been mimicked, and in application, proved even superior.

This blow was incredibly heavy, and the stronger the cultivator, the harder it was to recover.

At this juncture, Zhu Guanhhao’s will was at its weakest point in his entire life. Furthermore, he harbored a self-deceiving desire, almost wishing to bury his head deep in the sand like an ostrich and pretend nothing had ever happened.

It was precisely at this moment that He Yiming employed his half-mastered confusion art, which happened to align perfectly with Zhu Guanhhao’s current state of mind and some deep-seated subconscious desire, thus ensuring its success.

Letting out a soft breath, He Yiming suddenly realized that casting the confusion art had exhausted him far more than the intense battle he had just fought.

Gazing quietly into Zhu Guanhhao’s eyes, he saw only a vague fog, like an utterly defenseless fortress.

He Yiming cleared his throat softly. "What is your name?"

"Zhu Guanhhao."

"Where are you from?"

"The Zhu family of Yuzhou."

He Yiming nodded secretly. Before the fight, he had never expected the final outcome to be this ideal.

Quickly organizing the questions in his mind, he asked, "What is the Millennial Cataclysm?"

"Approximately every thousand years, a Cataclysm strikes the Howling Ghost Ridge. Once the Cataclysm descends, everyone within the Ridge will perish; not a single soul can escape." Zhu Guanhhao spoke without pause, his eyes utterly vacant of expression.

He Yiming’s heart clenched. "How long ago was the last Millennial Cataclysm?"

He had already resolved that if this were true, he would immediately find Jin Zhanyi and the others and flee, even if three Venerable Masters lay in wait outside—catching him then would not be guaranteed. But under a Millennial Cataclysm, the danger would likely be far greater.

"The last Millennial Cataclysm was over five hundred years ago."

He Yiming exhaled in relief. "If that is the case, why are you all so certain the Millennial Cataclysm is happening now?"

The conduct of Hao Xue and the other two had left a deep impression on him; seeing that they lacked even the courage to verify, choosing instead to scatter and flee, showed they believed it absolutely.

"The Millennial Cataclysm isn't strictly bound to a thousand years. If too many people descend into madness, there is a possibility it could erupt early."

He Yiming gasped, cursing viciously under his breath.

These three fiends must have known this fact all along. Even so, they chose to use madmen as cauldrons to refine Blood Coagulation Pearls.

Not only were they risking prematurely triggering the Millennial Cataclysm themselves, but they dragged everyone else in the Ridge into the same crisis.

Such scum deserved to be killed thirty times over; they harmed others and themselves, and if the Cataclysm truly erupted, everyone within the Howling Ghost Ridge would be buried with them.

After a moment of contemplation, He Yiming inquired again, "What exactly is the Millennial Cataclysm?"

"Unknown."

"You don't know?"

"Clan legends suggest it might be spirit beasts, perhaps toxic miasma, or some unknown threat, but no one has ever provided an exact answer." Zhu Guanhhao stated calmly. "Besides an excessive number of crazed individuals, the presence of Venerables can also trigger this disaster."

He Yiming’s spirit sharpened. Now he understood why those Venerable Masters, rather than pursuing them, dared not enter this place.

However, his curiosity regarding the Millennial Cataclysm only deepened. His thoughts shifted; he resolved that when he next saw Jin Zhanyi, he would question him thoroughly.

Looking at the dazed Zhu Guanhhao, He Yiming recalled the connection between the Hao family and the Yellow Springs Sect. He asked in a measured voice, "Is Ding Liyin of the Yellow Springs Sect outside the Howling Ghost Ridge?"

"Yes."

"Why did he come here?"

"To assassinate two people."

He Yiming smacked his forehead, realizing his own lapse in judgment. Of course, people from the Yellow Springs Sect would come here for assassination.

"Whom is he trying to kill?"

"He Yiming and Jin Zhanyi."

His eyes widened slowly, his mouth dropping open; this answer was far too shocking for He Yiming to process.

Suddenly, he recalled the three Venerable Masters stationed outside the Ridge before he entered.

Vaguely, Hundred and Eight had mentioned that one of them seemed to be from the Yellow Springs Sect; now it was clear that person must have been Ding Liyin.

A sharp glint of killing intent flashed in his eyes. He Yiming asked, "Why is he here to assassinate them?"

"Because they are the young people most likely to break through to the Supreme Venerable realm after entering the Howling Ghost Ridge this time," Zhu Guanhhao mumbled blankly. "All major forces, both East and West, outside the Lingxiao Treasure Palace alliance circle, wish for their deaths."