For a Necromancer, Spirit Corpses were usually stored within spatial trinkets, and Wan Mo wasn't at all surprised that Xiao Hu and Judy suddenly vanished; in fact, it would have been strange if they hadn't.

After the discussion concluded, the two slipped away unnoticed while everyone else was distracted, flying deeper into the Frozen Demon Garden.

Slaying a god was a clandestine affair; the fewer who knew, the better. Too many people meant loose lips, and once the Godhead was obtained, there was no guarantee that someone wouldn't become greedy and try to kill them next.

If they were willing to slay a god for a Godhead, what chance did a peak Saint Domain expert like himself have?

They moved cautiously through the Frozen Demon Garden, using the trees as cover to evade the patrolling Necromancers.

Chen Feng couldn't help but sigh watching Wan Mo's current demeanor. The supposed leader among the Necromancer contingent was now forced to act like a thief, fearful of being seen by his own subordinates—it was truly speechless.

If it were him, he wouldn't bother with such maneuvering; knowing the enemy's lair, he would simply charge in. It wouldn't matter if they were gods or undead; none would escape unscathed.

Of course, this was contingent on strength. For the current Chen Feng, slaying a god was as easy as changing clothes or washing his face. But for a peak Saint Domain powerhouse like Wan Mo, it was as arduous as moving a mountain, and failure could easily mean a dead end.

After traveling for a while, they were already hundreds of miles from their starting point. Wan Mo abruptly shed his cautious facade, darted up a slope, and released a subtle wave of energy, seemingly summoning someone.

A moment later, light indeed flickered as figures flew in from four different directions.

There were four individuals: three men and one woman. The foremost man had coarse, dark stubble and thick eyebrows; he was clearly no good fellow. The second looked rather frail. The third was tall, lean, and robust. The final one, the woman, didn't match the ferocity of the three men; with alluring eyes, she was quite a beauty in the making, though still far behind Judy and the others. Still, not bad.

The four flew down from the slope to join Wan Mo. The leading broad-shouldered man with the thick eyebrows spoke to Wan Mo, "Are we moving now? Wasn't the original agreement for tonight?"

A killing intent flared in Wan Mo’s eyes. "That guy injured my Ancestor when he killed him. He must be heavily wounded and at his weakest. Our chances of killing him now are much greater."

The broad-shouldered man asked in surprise, "Master has fallen? When did he sneak into your place?"

"Just now," Wan Mo replied fiercely.

The broad-shouldered man exchanged glances with the other three; a flicker of alarm crossed their eyes. After a pause, he said, "We all know the Master's strength. Even heavily injured, he's not someone the four of us can contend with. When we planned to slay the god, the Master was part of the plan. Now that he has fallen, the four of us..."

The implication of the broad-shouldered man’s words was that they were backing out. Hearing this, Chen Feng understood a little more: they had factored in the old man whom Chen Feng had killed—no wonder they had a 60% chance of success. Using a deity as a distraction while the others ambushed would indeed give them a high probability of success.

Now that the old man was gone, Wan Mo’s carefully constructed alliance was naturally in jeopardy, especially since slaying a god was, for them, an adventure with virtually no chance of survival.

Wan Mo caught the drift of their hesitation, his expression souring. When his Ancestor was alive, these people spoke to him like grandsons; now that the Ancestor was gone, they were showing reluctance, looking ready to break ties.

He quietly clenched his fists, suppressing the rage boiling inside. Wan Mo knew that although these four were opportunistic, their strength was undeniable. He wasn't certain he could defeat any one of them in a fight, let alone all four simultaneously.

"After killing the Funeral Demon God Spirit, the Godhead belongs to you. I only seek vengeance," Wan Mo stated.

"You don't want the Godhead?" The broad-shouldered man and the others felt a jolt, a sudden surge of excitement.

When their Master was present, they were reserved and harbored no extravagant thoughts about the Godhead. Now that the Master was dead, if they actually obtained the Godhead, deciding who it would go to would be tricky.

With this thought, the four exchanged glances, hesitation coloring their expressions.

This was the chance to become a god—an immensely tempting prospect for any of them.

"Are you absolutely certain you don't want the Godhead?" the broad-shouldered man pressed again.

"If you don't want it, you don't have to come. But slaying a god is no joke, and the Funeral Demon God Spirit won't always be wounded. The opportunity, well... there's only ever one," Wan Mo said.

His words indeed swayed the remaining four. They subconsciously rubbed their hands, stirring a wave of excitement.

"Damn it, let's risk it!" The broad-shouldered man finally relented after a moment of hesitation, shouting out loud, his resolve hardened.

"Brother Kuang Mo has decided. Brother Wen Mo, what about you?" Wan Mo then turned his attention to the second, somewhat frail Necromancer.

"I will follow whatever the Boss decides; there's nothing to think about. However... you said you didn't want the Godhead. If you go back on your word when we get it, watch out for us turning on you," said the Necromancer known as Wen Mo.

"Agreed," Wan Mo nodded, agreeing verbally, but thinking to himself, As long as you live long enough to take it.

Two of the four agreed; the remaining two soon followed suit.

"Very well, since it's settled, let's go now," Wan Mo said.

"Good. Who is this?" the broad-shouldered man, Kuang Mo, suddenly asked as he noticed Chen Feng standing nearby.

"He is my helper," Wan Mo explained.

"A helper?" Kuang Mo looked at Chen Feng and let out a cold sneer. "This time we're slaying a god, not training disciples. If even one thing goes wrong, we could all end up dead here. Brother Wan Mo surely understands that principle, right?"

Seeing Chen Feng's youth, Kuang Mo assumed he was some direct relative of Wan Mo whose strength was negligible, brought along only to witness the event. However, Kuang Mo had a point: slaying a god was a life-and-death struggle requiring seamless coordination. If one party faltered, total annihilation was the result—truly, "better to have an opponent like a god than a teammate like a pig."

"Hmph, I don't need you to teach me," Wan Mo snorted coldly, a hint of displeasure on his face. He hadn't truly fought Chen Feng before, so he wasn't sure of his strength, but seeing him defeat Yi Shi and Hun Lie with a single move suggested his cultivation was certainly no lower than his own.

One needs comparison to show merit. Wan Mo normally had excellent relations with Kuang Mo and the others, but they immediately changed their tune upon hearing the Ancestor was dead, revealing their self-interest. In contrast, this Yamazaki Ryuji (Chen Feng) had agreed without hesitation to join him in slaying a god after meeting him just once, showing his character. Therefore, hearing Kuang Mo seem to look down on Chen Feng instantly annoyed Wan Mo.

"Oh?" Kuang Mo ignored Wan Mo's attitude and continued, "It's not that we don't trust Brother Wan Mo. But since we've chosen to slay a god, we need to know the opponent's strengths for proper coordination, otherwise..."

Before he could finish, Wan Mo cut him off. "Does what Brother Kuang Mo says imply he also wants to test my limits?"

"Hehe, Brother Wan Mo, why say that? We have always admired your abilities. There is absolutely no doubt about you, but him... I just feel he looks too young," Kuang Mo replied.

"Hmph, his name is Yamazaki Ryuji, and his cultivation is no lower than mine," Wan Mo said, merely snorting this time, adding nothing more.

"Oh? To earn such praise from Brother Wan Mo at such a young age, I must truly get to know such a heroic figure," Kuang Mo said with a cold smile, walking up to Chen Feng. He paid no heed to what Wan Mo had said. Chen Feng looked barely twenty, while they had cultivated for millennia. If his cultivation was comparable to theirs, had he been cultivating since birth?

"Brother Wan Mo and I are old friends; I fully trust what he says. Since he claims your cultivation is no less than his, then we are friends. I am Kuang Mo," Kuang Mo said, raising his right hand to clap Chen Feng on the shoulder, acting as if they were already intimately acquainted.

This clap was not the friendly gesture of new acquaintances. It was a probe of Chen Feng's strength, a seemingly simple pat concealing deadly intent.

"Kuang Mo, what are you doing?" Wan Mo recognized his intention and felt his face drain of color, believing the man was doubting him.

"Brother Wan Mo, don't worry about it. Brother Kuang Mo is looking out for all of us. If someone is joining us, we need to be truly assured," a soft voice interjected from the side—it was the female Necromancer. While speaking gently, she had already grabbed Wan Mo's arm, clearly eager to see Chen Feng humiliated.

...

Before Kuang Mo's first palm strike landed, Chen Feng already understood the situation. However, a test of this magnitude failed to pique his interest, so he accepted it without concern, his body remaining perfectly still.

Kuang Mo used only thirty percent of his strength in the first attempt, but this thirty percent carried the intent of a sneak attack. Even if the opponent’s cultivation truly matched his own, being caught off guard meant they would suffer. Yet, there was absolutely no reaction.

A shock registered in his mind, and Kuang Mo immediately increased the force to seventy percent, pouring that seventy percent of energy madly into Chen Feng’s body through his arm.

Chen Feng felt the increase in strength and frowned slightly. He was slightly annoyed. He had shown restraint earlier, but the man was pressing his luck. Since that was the case, there was no need to hold back.

With that thought, Chen Feng shifted his shoulder, pushing upward against Kuang Mo’s palm as he met the strike. Simultaneously, the power of the Great Universe within him erupted, and a wave of strength, like a tsunami, instantly surged out.

At that very moment, Kuang Mo felt a sharp pain in his palm. The tremendous force numbed his entire arm, his expression changed drastically, and with a series of stumbles, he retreated over ten paces, his legs giving way until he collapsed directly onto the ground.