Staring at Mo Han, the black-armored knight let out a grating, cackling laugh. "Excellent. Then allow me to show you what a true lightning strike looks like."

With those words, the figure of the black-armored knight vanished from its spot once more. Mo Han, however, raised his Creation God-tier weapon with a solemn expression. Then, he made an astonishing move: in mid-air, he closed his eyes and stood perfectly still.

This was the only countermeasure Mo Han could devise against his opponent. The black-armored knight's speed had surpassed the limits of humanity; he simply could not track the figure with his naked eye. Using his sight was only hindering his judgment and speed. The only way forward was to rely on the heightened perception of a God-level powerhouse to sense the direction of the opponent's attacks.

Mo Han was certain that no matter how fast his foe was, any offensive move would inevitably cause a ripple in the surrounding air.

This way, he could rapidly perceive the enemy's actions and respond accordingly.

Mo Han’s hypothesis seemed to be proven correct. With a sudden, sharp cry, Mo Han swung his Creation God Sword fiercely to his right. A clear ding sound followed as the Creation God Sword accurately intercepted the knight’s lance attack. Affected by Mo Han’s strike, the black-armored knight’s speed naturally decelerated.

He reappeared to Mo Han’s left.

"Not bad. To predict my attacks based on the subtle shifts in airflow—you are clever, human."

The black-armored knight regarded Mo Han and spoke slowly. "That is indeed the best way to counter my speed. But what if there is no airflow fluctuation at all? How would you defend then, gaga..."

After saying this,

the black-armored knight vanished again. Mo Han’s expression grew even more grave.

Mo Han truly could not believe the opponent could attack without disturbing the slightest airflow. Yet, since the black-armored knight had said it, he surely had no reason to lie. Mo Han’s heart sank rapidly.

He could only maintain his guard with heightened caution.

But then, something astonishing happened that blurred his senses.

After the black-armored knight disappeared from Mo Han’s line of sight, Mo Han sensed absolutely no disturbance in the air. As Mo Han puzzled over this, a black knight's lance suddenly appeared behind his back without warning, stabbing fiercely toward his spine. Simultaneously, the lance's owner—the black-armored knight—slowly materialized right behind Mo Han.

By the time Mo Han finally sensed an air fluctuation, the black knight's lance had already accurately pierced his protective battle aura, producing a sound like tearing skin.

The black knight's weapon had pierced through Mo Han’s protective battle aura without any discernible resistance, driving straight through the golden aura and into Mo Han’s body. Clearly, the knight’s lance was no ordinary weapon; it could bypass the aura of a God-level expert.

Fortunately, the protective battle aura had, at the crucial moment,

slightly impeded the attacking force and the time.

This granted Mo Han a split second to react. At that precise instant, Mo Han shifted his entire body

a short distance toward his front-left. It was exactly this slight margin that saved Mo Han from the fate of being impaled by the knight's lance.

The black lance merely grazed Mo Han’s right waist, slicing off a spray of crimson blood. Taking advantage of this opening, Mo Han raised his Creation God Sword, which blazed with brilliant light, and thrust forcefully toward the black-armored knight behind him.

The black-armored knight, Lin Lei, seemed extremely wary of the Creation God Sword in Mo Han’s hand and dared not meet the blow head-on. Instead, he swiftly darted to the side, evading the threat. Where the tip of the knight’s lance had touched Mo Han’s blood, a thread of eerie red light began to pulse.

Then, the blood clinging to the knight’s lance, along with the red light, gradually vanished completely. The originally pitch-black lance seemed to take on a faint, almost imperceptible, demonic reddish hue.

"Heh heh, the blood of a God-level expert is certainly different. My World-Ending Demonic Lance hasn't feasted so heartily in a long time,"

the black-clad figure murmured, observing the change in his weapon.

Mo Han, meanwhile, wore an expression of agony, staring in shock at the wound on his waist. Around the spot where the enemy’s lance had grazed him, circles of black light began to rapidly manifest. Under the influence of this black light, the small wound started to expand rapidly.

In just a moment, the tiny laceration had doubled in size. Mo Han frantically cast several high-level healing spells to accelerate the recovery, but he was shocked to find that even with his cultivation level, the wound refused to close smoothly.

The black light surrounding the wound actively counteracted the healing magic Mo Han was releasing. Although Mo Han’s current power meant he was generally immune to negative effects, this black light was incredibly strange; it managed to contend with his healing spells, holding its own without yielding ground, rendering his magic effectively useless.

However, Mo Han found small consolation in the fact that while his healing magic could not rapidly repair the damage, it could temporarily halt the spread of the black miasma around the wound, preventing further deterioration. If given enough time, Mo Han was confident he could completely purge this bizarre darkness from his body.

The problem was, he had no time. The strength of the black-armored knight facing him was clearly not inferior to his own, and he could not afford to focus on healing. Everything would have to wait until after he defeated the opponent.

At this moment, the black-armored knight spoke with a hint of suppression in his tone. "I didn't expect you to resist the corrosion of the demonic light from the World-Ending Demonic Lance.

Few among our own Nether Clan can withstand its corrosive power. It seems humanity’s God-level experts are truly formidable."

"You said the weapon in your hand is the Nether Clan's supreme treasure, the World-Ending Demonic Lance?" Mo Han asked, unable to suppress his surprise as he looked at his waist wound.

"Indeed."

Hearing Mo Han’s question, the black-armored knight nodded slowly. "You must understand, this World-Ending Demonic Lance is one of the two supreme treasures of our Nether Clan. The world-ending demonic light imbued in it is something ordinary people simply cannot endure.

Even within the Nether Clan, only a select few can resist its corrosive radiance. I am truly surprised that a mere human like you has reached this level."

With that, the black-armored knight shook his head slowly. "A pity. Even if you can withstand the erosion of the demonic light,

you cannot eliminate its influence in a short time. This means your strength will certainly be affected. Since your base power is already inferior to mine, what will you use to fight me now?"

"Enough empty talk. Why are all you Nether Clan members so verbose? If you want to fight, fight! If you don't dare, then get lost back where you came from," Mo Han retorted, though he knew the man spoke the truth, he couldn't stand the opponent's smug tone.

Hearing Mo Han's sarcasm,

the black-armored knight snorted coldly. "If you are so eager to die quickly, I shall oblige you."

With these words, the black-armored knight’s figure vanished from Mo Han’s sight once more.

What followed proved increasingly unfavorable for Mo Han. After a few exchanges, Mo Han accumulated several more wounds inflicted by the World-Ending Demonic Lance,

and his movements grew progressively slower.

After leaving another gash on Mo Han, the black-armored knight halted. He simply stood watching Mo Han, letting out a triumphant laugh.

"Heh heh heh. How is it, Chen Mo Han? Do you still intend to persist? If you could truly wield the Creation God Sword, perhaps I would be concerned. But you cannot bring out even a fraction of its original power. Such a sword in your hands is no different from scrap iron. I suggest you surrender now, and I might spare your life."

The black-armored knight spoke with smug satisfaction, looking at the heavily wounded Mo Han.

The only reply the black-armored knight received was a cold sneer from Mo Han.

Mo Han slowly raised the Creation God Sword in his hand, pointing it diagonally at his foe; his intent was perfectly clear. Seeing this action, the knight’s ghostly blue eyes flared brightly, and the dark energy in the surrounding air immediately intensified.

The black-armored knight let out a cold huff. "Hmph. Since you are so obstinate, do not blame me. I will now show you the strongest technique of the Nether Clan’s First Commander, Phirasth: Hell’s Roar.

It is your fortune to die beneath Hell’s Roar."

As he finished speaking, the pitch-black knight’s lance in Phirasth's hand began to emit a dense crimson light. It dyed the entire sky blood-red, making it look like the apocalypse.

Every soldier in the allied human army under the fierce red glow had their faces turn blood-red. The entire battlefield seemed to transform into a blood-soaked hellscape. Under this astonishing change, everyone involuntarily paused their actions, their faces etched with confusion and fear.

Even the forces of the Church of Light were stunned into stillness by the sudden spectacle. Only Blaz and the few Nether Clan experts remained unaffected, locked in fierce combat. Several streaks of black light continuously slammed against Blaz's seven-colored magical barrier, the exchange so intense that neither side gained the upper hand for a time.

Although Blaz was anxious for Mo Han’s safety, he could not disengage. The strength of these Nether Clan members had each reached the peak of Saint-level energy, and their perfect coordination further amplified their power. Even for Blaz, resolving this engagement would not be a matter of moments.

At the same instant, Phirasth in the air let out a sudden, deafening roar. Countless streams of red light shot forth from the lance in his hand, instantly coalescing into a gigantic, blood-red monstrous beast that charged toward Mo Han in the distance.

Facing imminent death, Mo Han naturally refused to wait passively. Countless drops of crimson blood seeped from Mo Han’s hand,

one after another, into the Creation God Sword. The golden light in Mo Han’s eyes shone brighter than ever before.

Mo Han was forcefully channeling his life energy into the Creation God Sword, temporarily pushing his strength to a new level—the final secret technique he had learned from Blaz.

Mo Han had originally intended to reserve this last resort for when he finally faced the Nether King Hades. He never imagined he would be forced to use it before even encountering the King.

But Mo Han could no longer afford restraint. From the power Phirasth had just displayed, Mo Han already understood.

He had absolutely no retreat left. If he failed to withstand Hell’s Roar, he would likely die here today, and even giving his all might not be enough to match Phirasth’s attack.

But Mo Han was not one to wait for death. Thus, he desperately unleashed his life potential to elevate his power further. Mo Han roared out loud, and the golden light in his eyes intensified, marking a clear boost in his strength.

However, the drain on Mo Han’s life essence was staggering.

Mo Han felt his life energy constantly flowing into the Creation God Sword, which continued to absorb his potential maniacally. Mo Han frantically tried to stop his actions, but to his horror, his body seemed utterly unresponsive to his commands.

He could not halt what he had started. If his life potential continued to leak at this rate,

he would soon become a dried husk. Mo Han had absolutely no idea why this mutation was occurring.

Blaz had only cautioned him never to channel his life potential into the Creation God Sword unless it was absolutely necessary, warning that the consequences were unknown.

But Mo Han, after contemplating a thousand possible outcomes, never imagined this—it was an act of suicide. He would likely perish from massive life force depletion, turning into a mummy, long before he could kill his enemy. Yet, Mo Han had no control; he could only watch the spectacle unfold.

Just then, the beast formed of red light, its gaping maw wide open, lunged forward and instantly swallowed the immobilized Mo Han whole.

Watching this shocking scene, everyone below the battlefield gasped in terror. Mo Han was the spiritual anchor of the allied human forces; he was the first human to reach God-level strength. If even he were defeated, it would be a devastating blow to the human army.

Even Phirasth seemed taken aback. He hadn't expected Mo Han not to resist at all, allowing Hell’s Roar to strike him. Was he truly seeking suicide? Phirasth thought in disbelief.

Just as despair settled over everyone, a blinding golden light flared beneath the giant monster’s belly. It instantly transformed into a massive beam of golden light that cleaved the entire beast, constructed of blood-red energy, into two halves. The golden light grew rapidly, and the blood-red energy began to recede under its illumination until it vanished without a trace.

As the red light finally dissipated, Mo Han’s golden silhouette gradually reappeared. However, Mo Han had undergone a startling transformation. His previously jet-black hair was now bright blue, and his eyes had become an eerie blue, emitting faint, ghostly light as they coldly fixed upon Phirasth.

Most astonishingly, intricate, indecipherable blue lines now adorned the left and right sides of Mo Han’s face, forming an irregular pattern—it looked utterly bizarre.

Seeing this, all the allied human soldiers erupted in earth-shattering cheers. Phirasth, however, stared at the transformed Mo Han with astonishment, uttering the incredible words, "Saint Angel, how can you be a Saint Angel? You are merely human, how can you be a Saint Angel?"

"Phirasth. Long time no see. I’m surprised you still remember me."

The transformed Mo Han’s voice remained unchanged. He gazed coldly at the opposing Phirasth and slowly spoke, "In the great God War of twenty thousand years ago, you were defeated by my hand. Do you truly believe you stand a chance against me today?"