It was a barren island, sparse with vegetation. Everything looked gray, almost devoid of spiritual energy. The island wasn't large; one could see its edge in a single glance. On a central reef, a crude thatched hut had been built. By the sea, on a rock constantly battered by waves, sat an old man with ragged clothes and disheveled hair and beard, cross-legged.

He had a fishing rod resting across his lap, his gaze vacant and distant, lost in some unknown thought. The droplets of water splashing up from the rocks onto his face elicited no reaction. Now, Youming No. 9 waited about a hundred feet away. And Lei Dong hovered quietly nearby, fully clad. He couldn't help but frown. This old man seemed unable to recover from some immense shock. In his current state, the objective of this trip was likely doomed to fail. Fortunately, Lei Dong hadn't held high hopes for this endeavor to begin with. If this person could help him refine the item, that would be excellent. If not, he’d find an opportunity for the sect's flying boat to deliver the wings to Wan Yan, instructing her to seek out the sect's Artifact Refining Grandmaster. Of course, the latter option would cause more complications. After all, what he needed was to increase his escape speed during this war, ensuring he lived to see it end. He was purely relying on luck.

It was precisely because of this mindset that Lei Dong felt relatively relaxed. He clasped his hands and spoke aloud, "Senior Wang, I am Lei Dong, a disciple of the Battle Hall in the Yin Sha Sect. I wish to request your assistance in refining a spirit artifact."

Wang Lei remained seated, staring blankly, showing no reaction whatsoever. It was as if Lei Dong's arrival, and whether he spoke, were entirely irrelevant to him.

Lei Dong slowly shook his head, thinking privately that the man was ruined. A touch of pity and sympathy arose for him. He didn't press further, clasped his hands again, and spoke respectfully, "Since the Senior is unwilling, then this junior will take his leave first..." With that, he turned and began to fly backward.

"Stop." Wang Lei, who seemed afflicted with dementia, suddenly roared, raising a hand to point directly at Lei Dong. The azure finger energy shot out like an incomparably sharp sword gleam, swift as lightning and possessing immense momentum.

Lei Dong had been extremely cautious to begin with. Fearing that Wang Lei might be mentally unstable and attack without reason, he dared not speak foolish words that might provoke him. Whether he agreed or refused was fine. Unexpectedly, after two polite sentences, the man actually attacked. His divine sense—"Observation"—registered everything.

His heart tightened. He hastily surged dark energy throughout his body, channeling the essence within his crimson cloak into himself. His figure transformed into a faint shadow, the black energy churning, interwoven with wisps of red mist, resembling a ferocious, bloodthirsty specter. As his speed erupted, he darted several feet to the side in the blink of an eye, narrowly evading the finger-sword strike. Simultaneously, Lei Dong rotated in mid-air, facing Wang Lei squarely.

The reason he didn't flee was that he sensed Zhang Heng driving Youming No. 9 toward him, closing the hundred-foot distance rapidly. Two extremely powerful Foundation Establishment cultivators, plus a Youming No. 9, even if they couldn't handle this unreasonable old monster, could ensure a smooth retreat with ease. If he had fled with his back turned, he might have reached the ship faster, but he would be vulnerable to his attacks. Lei Dong was confident that with his own strength and numerous excellent treasures, defeating a Golden Core cultivator was impossible, but holding out for a short while was certainly achievable.

"...Hmph, the Crimson Cloak." Wang Lei confirmed he had long known about the Youming No. 9 waiting nearby, but he didn't even spare it a glance. After uttering a sentence, he sneered again, "You dodged quite quickly. Why don't you try taking a few more of my strikes?"

"Old immortal surnamed Wang, don't push your luck!" Zhang Heng hadn't expected this old man, knowing the formidable Youming No. 9 was right beside them, would still dare to attack Lei Dong. He couldn't help but curse angrily, "You dare strike casually against a Battle Hall disciple of the Yin Sha Sect? Believe it or not, I'll call someone to wipe you out right now..."

Lei Dong, however, had a different thought at this moment. When this man mentioned the Crimson Cloak, the expression on his face clearly shifted slightly, as if a flicker of pride had flashed across it. He waved his hand at Zhang Heng: "Brother Zhang, please hold your move for now. Let me converse with Senior Wang a bit longer..."

Zhang Heng quickly docked the Youming No. 9 near Lei Dong, the Netherworld Fire main cannon slowly rotating, as if to exert pressure on Wang Lei and deter him from any rash actions.

Who would have thought that Wang Lei also had his own complex feelings brewing. Since he decided to disengage from worldly affairs and retire to this small settlement, in the beginning, many, many people still arrived carrying peerless treasures, equipped with all sorts of artifact refining materials, begging him to craft spirit artifacts and magic treasures. After they were all exceedingly respectful and ingratiating, he would use various malicious and humiliating methods to drive them away. It seemed that only in this manner could he slightly alleviate the gloom and sorrow accumulating in his heart. Over time, no one came anymore. Now, a disciple from the Yin Sha Sect had arrived. Wang Lei still wanted to enjoy the experience of being flattered and comforted in every way, only to be rejected in his own perverse manner, plunging the visitor into despair. Who knew that this Yin Sha Sect disciple would simply say two sentences and turn to leave, immediately causing him to feel ashamed and enraged? Moreover, before leaving, the disciple's eyes clearly held pity and sympathy. This instantly subjected his already irritable mood to further humiliation. He thought to himself that he hadn't even had time to humiliate the youth, yet the youth had preemptively insulted him. This was the reason for the previous scene.

"Senior Wang, did you refine the Crimson Cloak?" Lei Dong asked with slight curiosity.

"...Hmph." Although Wang Lei was arrogant, he was still somewhat wary of the Yin Sha Sect, especially their battleship, the Youming. Wang Lei was quite aware of its power. However, upon mentioning the Crimson Cloak, the look of pride flashed across his face again. This cloak integrated both speed and defense, and neither aspect was inferior to a normal top-grade spirit artifact; it was truly one of Wang Lei's favorites. Therefore, seeing the Crimson Cloak had indeed surprised him greatly, bringing back many past memories.

Judging by his expression, Lei Dong understood. He sincerely praised him without reservation: "The praises bestowed upon you by others are certainly not exaggerated. This Crimson Cloak is very good; this humble one finds it very comfortable to use."

Wang Lei's smug expression eased slightly, though he still snorted strangely, "Don't think that just because you know how to flatter, and you're a disciple of the Yin Sha Sect Battle Hall, I will help you refine artifacts. Save your breath."

"If that's the case, Senior, why not allow this junior to leave?" Lei Dong chuckled lightly. "Could it be that Senior intends to keep this junior as a guest?"

"Clever boy, sharp-tongued," Wang Lei’s old face stiffened, showing a hint of shame and anger. "If you can withstand ten of my sword-fingers, then I might be interested in hearing what you wish to refine..."

"Ten fingers?" Lei Dong pondered. If it were just the single strike from before, he could probably manage it with preparation. But he still asked first: "May this junior use external aids like puppets or ghost servants to defend?"

"Fine. Use whatever you want. As long as you withstand my ten strikes," Wang Lei sneered relentlessly. "Then I will listen to what you want refined. If the materials and the item itself are trash, I won't even bother looking at you..."

Lei Dong took a deep breath, adjusted his state, and circulated his Netherworld Ghost Qi to the extreme. However, he did not let the ghost qi diffuse limitlessly outward. Instead, he condensed it with extreme density in a space about one zhang around himself. As a result, Lei Dong's entire body was completely enveloped in an intensely thick cloud of black gas, making it impossible for those with weaker divine senses to discern his location. After equipping himself with a Profound Yin Shield as well, feeling sufficiently prepared, he said, "Senior Wang, you may begin..."

"Old ghost, if you dare to use even half an extra finger, don't blame Zhang for the mercilessness of my Netherworld Fire main cannon," Zhang Heng was also slightly worried. Wang Lei was a Golden Core cultivator, and a long-established one at that. He had to issue a warning, lest Wang Lei exerted too much force. This was also part of their act: one playing the 'bad cop' and the other the 'good cop.'

Wang Lei glared at the Youming No. 9 with great displeasure, his face cold. "Kid surnamed Lei, don't blame me if you die." As his voice fell, his finger pressed down into the void.

A streak of azure finger energy, like a sharp sword beam, shot straight toward Lei Dong. Its speed was more than a notch faster than the first strike. Clearly, he had held back in the beginning, not intending to end Lei Dong's life immediately.

Naturally, Lei Dong was prepared this time.

Seeing the azure sword beam shoot toward him, he burst forth and flashed violently to the side. However, an unexpected change occurred. A cold smile played on Wang Lei's lips. The hand that hadn't been lowered flicked to the right, and the azure light abruptly traced an arc in the air, pursuing Lei Dong, its speed even increasing slightly.

Lei Dong hadn't anticipated this move and didn't have time to dodge again. He hastily activated the Immortal-Warding Shield with his divine sense. With a crisp clang, the sword energy was blocked. The shattered sword energy dissipated into chaotic forces spreading outwards. Although he blocked the strike, Lei Dong's divine soul felt a jarring discomfort. Golden Core cultivators indeed could not be underestimated.

"Jie jie, another top-grade spirit artifact..." Brilliance flashed in Wang Lei's eyes, and his fingers tapped rapidly in the void. Seven or eight azure sword energies, resembling crashing thunder, shot toward Lei Dong.

Lei Dong also roared out, his fighting spirit surging. The Crimson Cloak and the Immortal-Warding Brow Plate were deployed simultaneously. Furthermore, the Foundation Establishment Peak puppet he had prepared for a long time also emerged before him; he needed the puppet to share some of the burden. As for the Ghost Guards, Lei Dong did not summon them. After all, an Eighth-Tier Ghost Guard would be too stretched to defend against the sword energies of a Golden Core cultivator.

At the same time, Lei Dong raised his hand, and the Red Refiner transformed into a streaming rainbow, clashing head-on with two of the sword energies. Everything happened in a flash of lightning and flint. Sharp energy fragments shot everywhere. The peak puppet, which had managed to block two streams of energy head-on, was thrown back over ten feet. As for Lei Dong, he used the Red Refiner to block two, the Crimson Cloak for two, and the Immortal-Warding Shield for the last two. Although he blocked them all instantly, his divine soul was violently churned as if by a tempest, and a mouthful of blood sprayed out.