Then, a sudden shout erupted from Mo Han: "Gravity Spell, Lightning Storm, Water Dragon Break."

A series of entirely different spells burst forth from Mo Han's lips, utterly breathtaking. Only a freakish powerhouse like a God of Magic could execute such varied attacks in such rapid succession.

Immediately, a wave of yellow light spread out from Mo Han’s vicinity. The Gravity Spell, cast by a God of Magic, possessed a far more terrifying potency; compared to ordinary gravity spells, it was on an entirely different plane of power.

Even though Zhamus’s agility had reached the level of a Nether General, under the effect of Mo Han's intensified gravity spell, his entire body involuntarily slowed down.

At that very moment, dozens of lightning bolts instantly descended from the sky, hurtling toward the now-slowing Zhamus. In the blink of an eye, they were upon him.

Though these lightning strikes were not overwhelmingly powerful—merely mid-tier lightning magic—when unleashed by a God of Magic like Mo Han, their impact could not be underestimated. If struck by them, even Zhamus would certainly sustain injuries.

At the critical juncture, Zhamus let out a fierce roar, his body engulfed in a brilliant black radiance. Several lightning bolts that struck him were instantly deflected by his protective Battle Aura.

Yet, before Zhamus could catch his breath, a thick column of water accurately slammed into his protective Battle Aura. Splashing water instantly drenched the space surrounding Zhamus. Although Mo Han's barrage hadn't directly shattered the Battle Aura, the successive onslaught was too much, forcing Zhamus to gasp for air and crash onto the ground.

With the assistance of the water element, the power of the Lightning Storm bolts...

...multiplied instantly. Under Mo Han's control, the lightning crazily hammered down onto the ground surrounding Zhamus, striking everywhere near his body.

Witnessing Mo Han’s actions, a flicker of confusion crossed Zhamus's eyes.

Could even someone of Mo Han's God of Magic standing have made such a rudimentary mistake? Attacking wildly without locking onto the target? But in the next instant, Zhamus understood why Mo Han had intentionally missed. Countless electrical currents surged along the water flow on the ground, flooding frantically into Zhamus's Battle Aura. While Zhamus's aura protected the space immediately around his body, it offered no defense against attacks rising from below.

And the lightning, naturally aided by the water element, could easily seep into Zhamus's defensive perimeter.

Zhamus grasped the principle instantly.

He couldn't help but inwardly admire Mo Han's magical control and operational skill; truly worthy of the title God of Magic.

The entire sequence of attacks meshed together flawlessly.

First, using the Gravity Spell to slow his own speed, followed by using the combined power of the Lightning Spell and Water Dragon Break to successively force him to the ground.

Finally, utilizing the lightning spells to attack through the water element—this coordination was simply seamless. It was no wonder people often said that a single God of Magic was far more than just the sum of several Archmagi.

Even if several Archmagi coordinated, they likely couldn't achieve the precision Mo Han managed alone. A slight deviation in timing...

...would have led to an entirely different outcome.

However, even if Zhamus now wished to leap into the air...

...due to the Gravity Spell, coupled with the fact that one burst of Battle Qi had just been expended, lifting off immediately was far from easy.

The lightning instantly flooded toward Zhamus’s feet before he could move. The Battle Qi Zhamus had just managed to gather was disrupted by the electricity, making cohesion impossible. The dense cluster of lightning attacks, lacking any finesse, struck him fully.

A cacophony of crackling electrical sounds erupted. Hearing that noise alone was enough to raise the hairs on one's neck, let alone being the one immersed within the lightning storm.

After a continuous barrage lasting several minutes, Mo Han ceased his spellcasting. Where Zhamus stood, a thick, white mist rose from the ground due to the lightning strikes, obscuring the view and leaving it unknown whether Zhamus had survived such a terrifying offensive.

Hormos and the other members of the Church of Light, witnessing Mo Han's divine might—one move was enough to render the fearsome Zhamus completely helpless—let out a cheer. The way they looked at Mo Han became one of overwhelming awe.

They had already experienced Zhamus's strength firsthand. To see him instantly neutralized by Mo Han was astonishing, explaining their profound reverence.

But Mo Han’s expression held no hint of joy. He knew clearly that against anyone else, even a High Warrior, this wave of lightning would have rendered them mere roasted meat. Yet, Zhamus was comparable to a Nether General, meaning conventional expectations did not apply.

Mo Han harbored no confidence that Zhamus had been killed so easily by that single magical assault; that would be an insult to the title of Nether General. Thus, while Mo Han maintained a slight smile, the expression in his eyes gradually grew grave.

"Worthy of being one of the Ten Nether Generals of the Nether Race. To withstand such an attack entirely unscathed... it seems I underestimated your strength. You must be considerably stronger than the Nether Generals I have faced before."

At this moment, Mo Han, standing amidst the fray, was the first to speak, addressing Zhamus, who remained enveloped in the thick fog.

Hearing Mo Han’s words, the Church of Light personnel gasped in shock. If Mo Han spoke truthfully, that Zhamus was unharmed by such an attack, was he even human? Furthermore, as clergy of the Church of Light, they were familiar with the fearsome reputation of the Ten Nether Generals. Realizing Zhamus was one of them filled every face with terror.

As time passed, the mist slowly dissipated into the air, revealing Zhamus’s form. However, Zhamus’s original black outer garment had long since been reduced to ash by Mo Han's lightning barrage. Now, Zhamus was tightly encased in a form-fitting battle suit emitting a faint, ghostly luminescence. It seemed the suit was responsible for Zhamus surviving Mo Han's magical bombardment unharmed.

While the strange suit covered Zhamus’s entire body, it could not protect the top of his head. All his hair had been incinerated by the assault, as had his eyebrows. His entire head looked both horrifying and comical.

Yet, Zhamus, the protagonist of this incident, showed none of the explosive rage everyone expected. Instead, he faced Mo Han with surprising calmness, his eyes burning with zealous fighting spirit: "The God of Magic's power is indeed extraordinary. You are the strongest opponent I have faced, second only to the First and Second Nether Generals. Were it not for the protection of this Nether Artifact, the Netherworld Battle Robe, I certainly wouldn't be standing here so easily."

Hearing Zhamus speak, Mo Han frowned slightly. "Oh? Then what of the Nether King's strength? Is he lesser than your Nether Generals?"

"You dare insult His Majesty the Nether King!"

Hearing Mo Han's question, Zhamus betrayed a rare flicker of emotion, shouting at Mo Han: "How could you low-ranking humans possibly compare yourselves to our magnificent His Majesty the Nether King? If His Majesty merely raised a hand, killing you would be as simple as crushing an ant. Even our First Nether General is no match for His Majesty, let alone you despicable humans. You are not worthy opponents for His Majesty."

Observing Zhamus's rising emotion, Mo Han maintained his faint smile, secretly rejoicing. He had worried the young man had achieved true mental tranquility, which would make dealing with him difficult.

In a duel, a calm opponent is almost always more dangerous than an emotional one. Mo Han had been struggling to provoke Zhamus into revealing any opening. Zhamus had remained utterly composed, even after his hair was scorched off by lightning, frustrating Mo Han.

Now, Mo Han had discovered Zhamus's weakness: the Nether King of the Nether Race. Mentioning the King caused Zhamus’s composure to shatter dramatically. Mo Han mentally noted that Zhamus was another pitiful member of the Nether Race brainwashed by the King.

With this realization, Mo Han deliberately let out a contemptuous, cold snort upon hearing Zhamus's outburst, speaking coolly: "Keep bragging. Bluffing costs nothing. If your Nether King were truly as mighty as you claim, why does he still hide in the sunless Netherworld, while we humans remain masters of this Dragon Ascent Continent? Do you not find your words laughable?"

Seeing Zhamus’s expression begin to contort in fury, Mo Han continued to prod him at a measured pace: "But it’s fortunate your Nether King hasn't appeared on the Dragon Ascent Continent yet, or I fear he would already be the continent's laughingstock. Heh heh. If he stood before me, I estimate I could kill him with one hand."

"You dare insult His Majesty the Nether King!"

Enraged beyond restraint by Mo Han's words, Zhamus let out a mighty roar and lunged toward Mo Han. His weapon transformed into countless specks of black light, slashing against Mo Han's magic shield. It was clear Zhamus was truly incensed, launching an all-out, merciless assault immediately.

A dense, continuous series of clanging noises filled the air. Mo Han's shield endured hundreds, if not thousands, of attacks in a short span, shaking violently under the onslaught.

As the saying goes, quantitative change leads to qualitative change. Any other mage, facing such terrifyingly dense attacks, even Bai Ling, would likely see her shield shatter.

But Mo Han was a God of Magic. Despite the violent trembling, the shield stood firm, showing no sign of cracking under Zhamus's relentless offense. Simultaneously, inside the shield, Mo Han's lips slowly curled into a faint smile.

Seeing that familiar smile, Zhamus’s expression shifted drastically; he inwardly cursed his misfortune.

Though he had only just met Mo Han, Zhamus had already suffered greatly from him. Mo Han had exhibited that very smile right before nearly turning him into roasted pork; the memory still left him uneasy. Seeing it again instinctively signaled danger. Zhamus frantically tried to move away from Mo Han’s proximity.

But Mo Han, having meticulously planned his strategy, would not allow his target to escape so easily. Mo Han roared suddenly: "Rise—Water Giant!"

This was the Water Giant, the sole summoning spell within Water Magic.

A curtain of water-blue light suddenly enveloped the space around Mo Han. Due to Mo Han's prior use of Water Magic, the air around him already held a sufficient concentration of water elementals.

Now, under Mo Han's command, casting this spell became incredibly efficient. In the open ground behind Zhamus, a host of Water Giants, formed from densely condensed water elements, rapidly materialized. They swung their water-swords, emitting unintelligible cries, and charged toward the retreating Zhamus, quickly encircling him.

Zhamus, in the middle of his retreat, was greatly alarmed. Though his strength meant he did not fear these Water Giants, and he was confident he could break through their protective circle in mere breaths, he understood something crucial: Mo Han’s final attack certainly wouldn't be these Water Giants. There must be some terrifying move awaiting him that he didn't know about—that was the true horror of a God of Magic. Unbound by low or mid-tier incantations, they could almost instantly cast any mid or low-tier spell, meaning that until a God of Magic actually released a spell, one had no idea what the next attack would be.

Zhamus knew the Water Giants were merely a ploy by Mo Han to stall for time, and he wouldn't let the scheme succeed. Ignoring the Giants entirely, Zhamus relied on his Battle Qi to rapidly ascend skyward, aiming to escape Mo Han's effective range.

However, as Zhamus retreated, Mo Han was already prepared. Mo Han swiftly chanted an incantation, and a golden light materialized beside him—it was Dick, the Demigod Beast Mo Han had recently subdued.

Seeing Zhamus about to flee, Dick, already telepathically linked with Mo Han, transformed into a streak of golden light, shooting toward Zhamus who was already airborne.

As he watched the golden streak, whose speed was almost supernatural, hurtle toward him, Zhamus's pupils constricted violently. Though he couldn't clearly identify the object within the light, he recognized the immense power contained within that golden ray. If struck by it, he would surely be injured immediately. His Netherworld Battle Robe could resist magical attacks, but it offered zero protection against an attack composed purely of solidified Battle Qi—it was like an ordinary shirt, utterly defenseless.

Realizing this, Zhamus dared not hesitate. He let out a fierce shout, his weapon slicing toward the approaching golden light with a sharp whistle. Zhamus’s reaction speed was commendable, but his method was flawed. That full-force strike might work against ordinary magical beasts, but what was Dick? A monster completely immune to Battle Qi. Using Battle Qi against Dick was like showing off one's meager skills before an expert.

Watching Zhamus’s move, a slight smile touched Mo Han’s lips. Zhamus’s every reaction was precisely within his expectations; Mo Han was almost impressed by his own talent for setting traps.

The black light emanating from Zhamus’s weapon collided with Dick’s golden light without fanfare. Just as Mo Han predicted, Dick’s golden ray merely resisted the black light momentarily before passing through Zhamus’s Battle Qi as if it were air, aiming straight for his chest.

Seeing this, Zhamus’s face changed drastically. He had no idea why the attack could disregard his Battle Qi defense and strike him directly, but at this critical moment, Zhamus had no time for contemplation.

The golden light, meeting Zhamus’s protective Battle Aura, pierced through it without hindrance and arrived before his chest in an instant. In desperation, Zhamus's body twisted in a grotesque manner, contorting sharply to the right.

But the golden light was moving too fast. Despite Zhamus’s swift reaction, the gold beam struck him squarely on the shoulder.

With a sharp bang, Zhamus could no longer maintain his stance under Dick’s full-force blow. He let out a miserable cry and spat out a mouthful of dark green blood, plummeting toward the open ground behind him.

Simultaneously, the Water Giants on the ground mercilessly raised their water-swords and hurled them toward the falling Zhamus. In a flash, the colossal water-swords were closing in on his back.

At this point, Zhamus’s true capability as a Nether General manifested. While still mid-air, Zhamus roared, twisting his hands behind him in an almost unbelievable motion. The long swords seemed to possess eyes on his back, striking with intense Battle Qi, completely shattering the massive water-swords bearing down on him. The sheer force of his released Battle Qi instantly pulverized several Water Giants on the ground into powder.

However, the Water Giants summoned by Mo Han were not ordinary. The pulverized giants instantly reformed, although the newly condensed Water Giants were noticeably smaller than their predecessors.

While Dick was attacking, Mo Han, still protected within his magic barrier, began a rapid chant: "Spirits of Light in the atmosphere, gather by my side! By the will of the King of Light Spirits, by my command, I order you to obey me. Gather mighty magic, mixed with the power of illumination, to oppose the evil will, cleanse the soiled minds, let the light return to the earth, and let the spirits be washed clean..."

Zhamus, having just landed, watched Mo Han’s chant and his face drained of color. Given Mo Han’s current cultivation level, any spell requiring him to vocalize an incantation must be a High or Ultimate tier spell. And the chant Mo Han was reciting was the Light Blessing Mantra—the ultimate supportive light magic, one that Dick, as an enemy of the Church of Light, knew intimately.

For ordinary humans, the profound and rich light energy embedded within the Light Blessing Mantra could instantly restore the afflicted by disease, negative magic, or even curses. For healthy individuals bathed in it, it brought tremendous benefits.

But this mantra, a blessing for humans, was the ultimate nightmare for the Nether Race, who worshiped dark energy; it was even more terrifying to them than Forbidden Spells. The dense light energy contained within the Light Blessing Mantra posed a fatal threat to the Nether Race. Once that light energy flooded their bodies, even a Nether General like Zhamus would face certain demise, and his soul would be permanently erased from existence, unable to return to the Netherworld.

Light Magic was the innate enemy of the Nether Race; no member of the Nether Race could ignore the threat of pure light magic. Even the supreme ruler of the Netherworld—the Nether King—would retreat three paces when facing the ultimate Light Magic, let alone a Nether General whose strength fell far short of the King’s.

Zhamus roared once more, casting all caution aside. He charged directly at Mo Han, desperate to interrupt the spellcasting. He didn't even bother dealing with the water-swords striking his back. Relying purely on his Battle Qi and incredible speed, Zhamus flew rapidly toward Mo Han.

As Zamuth successfully broke through the defensive perimeter of the Water Giant, a flash of golden light blinded him. He looked up quickly, only to see the same beam of gold that had wounded him earlier hurtling toward him again, laced with immense power.

While Zamuth could completely ignore the water broadswords wielded by the Water Giants, he dared not be careless about Dick’s attacks, given the latter’s demigod strength. Zamuth was acutely aware that his protective battle aura would certainly be unable to withstand that aberrant golden light, which seemed to bypass his defenses entirely.

Having suffered once already at Dick’s hands, Zamuth reluctantly darted to the side. No matter how urgent the situation, evasion was his only immediate option; otherwise, if struck by the golden beam again, even if he managed to reach Mo Han, he would likely lack the ability to stop Mo Han from completing his magic.

Dick, however, did not seem intent on fighting Zamuth seriously. Once Zamuth moved to evade, Dick swiftly returned to Mo Han’s side, keeping his gaze fixed intensely on Zamuth not far away. The moment Zamuth made any aggressive move, he would certainly face a counterattack from Dick.

Simultaneously, Zamuth could distinctly feel that Mo Han’s magic was nearing completion. Faced with a threat to his very life, Zamuth abandoned all caution and resolved to fight desperately.

Letting out a furious roar toward the heavens, the exposed parts of Zamuth’s face and hands began to slowly sprout layers of dark green scales, while a dark green horn slowly emerged from the top of his head, creating an utterly bizarre spectacle.

“Demonization!” Hermos, watching from a distance, cried out in horror. The Demonization of the Nether race was their final form.

These Nether beings would not resort to it unless they reached a point of absolute crisis.

They would not easily unleash their Demonized state. It was crucial to understand that once Demonized, although the Nether race’s inherent strength would see a temporary boost, it inflicted massive damage upon their own bodies. After every Demonization, a Nether being would require several days of rest just to fully recover their stamina, and the lifespan of the Demonized entity would be proportionally shortened.

Simply put, it was akin to humans overdrawing their very life force for a spell. The longer a Nether being remained Demonized, the more life they sacrificed. Thus, unless facing life-or-death circumstances, these Nether beings would never casually adopt their Demonized forms.

Now, with Zamuth—already a Nether General—undergoing Demonization, his power would surely become terrifyingly enhanced. As the green scales enveloped him, a strange green light emanated from Zamuth’s eyes. Then, he let out a roar utterly inhuman, and his entire body instantly dissolved into several afterimages, charging toward Mo Han.

Each of these afterimages carried tremendous destructive force; none were illusory. Compared to the previous Zamuth, it was as if several allies of equal strength had suddenly appeared to assist him. Zamuth was certain that the annoying golden beam could, at most, intercept one of his attacks, leaving the remaining strikes to hit Mo Han, who was still casting. Zamuth didn't expect these strikes alone to defeat Mo Han; he only hoped to interrupt the spellcasting process and buy himself some time to escape.

Just then, Dick, positioned beside Mo Han, suddenly let out a sharp cry, and the golden light flared violently, its area instantly expanding several dozen times. Dick knew that at his current speed, he could never block all of Zamuth’s attacks simultaneously, so he opted for this strategy of maximizing defense through stillness.

Zamuth’s ultimate target was the spellcasting Mo Han; therefore, Dick stayed close to Mo Han, frantically expanding his protective radius to engulf Mo Han’s entire body within his defensive circle. This way, he could defend against all of Zamuth’s assaults at once.

The dark battle aura blasts launched by Zamuth struck the edge of Dick’s golden defensive circle first. Dozens of muffled thuds echoed as the attacks impacted. Dick’s strength as a demigod beast proved its worth; those powerful dark battle auras crashed into the golden shield as if hitting solid iron. Although the sound was startling, the continuous casting of magic by Mo Han within the circle remained entirely unaffected.

At the same time, Zamuth’s actual body managed to close the distance to Mo Han. These afterimages created by Zamuth’s true form possessed power a notch above even the dark battle aura, especially under this life-or-death pressure, as Zamuth poured forth all his strength, releasing energy far exceeding his norm.

With a massive boom, Zamuth’s multiple afterimages struck Dick’s golden defensive circle almost simultaneously without pause. Under the impact of Zamuth’s phantoms, the defensive circle Dick projected began to shake violently, and the golden perimeter instantly shrank by one layer, barely managing to shield the few feet of space immediately surrounding Mo Han’s body.

The afterimages, after striking, showed no sign of stopping. They rapidly retreated a short distance before slamming back into Dick’s golden defense. After two such impacts, Dick’s protective circle rapidly diminished further, shrinking until it was merely a golden halo barely large enough to encompass Mo Han’s physical form.

Leaping