The Emperor’s words were met with what sounded like heavier breaths from behind the curtain. A low growl followed, and another beam of white light shot out towards the black-clad figure. This beam, however, moved noticeably slower than the previous two, clearly hampered by the black-clad man's aura domain ability. The Emperor seemed utterly depleted, slumping back into his chair immediately after launching this final attack, possessing no strength left for another.

The black-clad man paid no mind to the incoming light, sneering aloud, "The same move again? Still haven't given up? Even if you manage to hit me, it will be pointless. I will make sure you lose hope completely today."

With that, the black-clad man dismissed his aura domain. Instantly, the white light accelerated dramatically, reaching him in the blink of an eye. Yet, the man remained utterly dismissive, clearly intending to rely on his physical body to withstand the impact.

But just as the light was about to strike, the black-clad man felt a distinct wrongness. The energy contained within this white beam far surpassed the previous two; a sliver of genuine fear pierced his heart. His body reacted instinctively, dodging away with incredible speed. However, the white light was simply too close. Even with speed that surpassed human limits, he couldn't escape entirely, and the beam struck his arm.

A sharp cry of agony tore from the man’s throat. He hissed, "The Demon Exorcism Needle! You aren't the Emperor—you're one of the Church of Light?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than a different voice rang out from behind the curtain, "I can't believe how slow you are, only realizing it after being hit. And you dare call yourself a true powerhouse? I think you're just a boastful weakling."

As he spoke, the figure in yellow stepped out from behind the drapery. It was Mo Han, who had been at the Church of Light earlier that day. Draped in the voluminous yellow imperial dragon robe and obscured by the curtain, the black-clad man had completely failed to recognize him.

Seeing Mo Han, the man in black froze, then demanded, "Who are you? How did you know I would come here? Where is the Emperor of the Sky Dragon Empire?" Hearing the interrogation, Mo Han smiled faintly. "With tricks as clumsy as yours, you actually thought you could deceive us? I see your Nether Race truly isn't just ordinarily stupid, walking around with airs of superiority every day. Utterly idiotic. And you constantly dream of invading the Dragon Ascent Continent—it seems you’re only capable of dreaming."

Mo Han’s sarcasm made the black-clad man tremble with rage, yet he managed a cold retort, "You humans only know these despicable tricks. What is there to be proud of?"

Mo Han waved him off dismissively. "A joke. If I possessed your raw power, I wouldn't resort to these. These are called stratagems, understand? Do you think we humans can just keep cultivating endlessly like you Nether Race monsters? Truly brainless."

The moment Mo Han finished speaking, a rough, booming laugh echoed from the doorway. "Little friend, I am truly impressed now. To think you saw through the Nether Race's machinations so clearly—it's no wonder this unfortunate fiend ended up falling into your hands. You have scored another great merit for the Church of Light."

As he finished speaking, several figures entered. Leading them were Elder Guang Huo and the Emperor of the Sky Dragon Empire, Long Zhantian. Behind them followed Murong Tian, the Fourth Prince, several other priests of the Church of Light, and a contingent of elite guards from the Sky Dragon Legion.

Seeing Long Zhantian and Guang Huo, Mo Han quickly bowed. "Mo Han pays respects to Your Majesty, and greets the Elder."

Long Zhantian immediately countered, "Duke Mo Han, no need for such formality. You effectively saved my life. You are my savior. I hereby grant you exemption from bowing in my presence from this day forward."

Mo Han, who never cared much for such rituals anyway, accepted readily. "Then Mo Han thanks Your Majesty."

At this, Guang Huo bellowed with his massive voice, "Kid, your scheming is impressive! Knowing to first use daggers inscribed with common Light Magic patterns to lull this Nether Race member's guard, and then launching the final strike—only someone as devious as you could think up such a despicable move."

Hearing this, Mo Han forced a wry smile. "Elder, are you scolding me or praising me?" Guang Huo paused, then quickly replied, "Praising you, of course! Why would I scold you? Do I look like I have a screw loose?"

Mo Han chuckled, finding the exchange ridiculous. "Is that how you praise people? It sounds rather strange to my ears!" Guang Huo retorted stubbornly, "What's strange about it? I meant it as praise! Let's see who dares disagree!"

He glanced back at the assembled company. The priests and Murong Tian quickly averted their gazes, staring fixedly ahead, though smiles played on all their faces.

Mo Han couldn't help but feel a sense of exasperation regarding the Elder—he truly didn't know what to say, perhaps just that there was nothing to say at all. He chuckled inwardly.

With that thought, Mo Han quickly steered the conversation. "Elder Guang Huo, what should be done with this Nether Race captive now?" Guang Huo waved a great hand. "What is there to do? Beat him half to death, drag him back to the Holy Capital, and put him on display!"

Hearing the Elder’s plan, Mo Han admired his ruthlessness; the Elder clearly possessed just as many underhanded tactics as he did. Guang Huo then roared at the priests behind him, "What are you standing there like statues for? Am I waiting to treat you to dinner? Hurry up and grab him!"

The priests exchanged wry glances, well aware of Elder Guang Huo's temper, and dared not hesitate. They quickly advanced toward the Nether General, who was currently immobilized by the Demon Exorcism Needles.

Approaching the Nether Race captive, the priests simultaneously began chanting, and the white light in their hands flared, clearly initiating a formation intended to seal the Nether General.

But just then, the situation took a sudden, violent turn. The Nether General let out a ferocious roar, and a blast of black light erupted from his body. His previously fixed posture began to move with startling speed. He thrust both palms outward, striking the priests surrounding him. Several pained cries followed as the priests were all sent flying backward, crashing to the ground and remaining motionless—their lives were clearly forfeit. After dispatching them, the General dared not linger, charging directly toward a window beside the door.

Mo Han tried to intervene, but he was too far away; it was too late. The Nether General was just about to clear the confines of the room, leaping toward the...