"Who exactly are you, and why do you look exactly like this fellow?" the old man with white hair demanded of me.

I shot him a look of utter disdain and replied coldly, "It’s none of your business. You only need to know that I am someone who is determined to take your life."

"Oh? Hahahaha…" The old man with white hair laughed maniacally and said, "I’ll give you one hand, and you still might not be able to defeat me."

I offered no further words, only staring coldly at my opponent.

The old man with white hair suppressed his laughter and fell silent as well.

After a moment, he spoke, "Very well, seeing as you are the junior, I will let you make the first move."

My hatred for this man wasn't a matter of a day or two; especially what he did to Liang Qian was utterly unforgivable.

Yet, even though I was consumed by blinding rage, I still turned to glance at Da Xiong and Nie Chuan standing nearby.

Grit my teeth, I said to the old man, "Let's move somewhere else, lest we injure innocent people."

The old man seemed pleased and nodded, turning to walk in a direction away from the sea of fire.

I looked back at the two one more time and said softly, "It's fine, don't worry."

Despite my words, I could see their eyes filled with deep concern.

I said no more, lifting my head and walking towards the old man with white hair.

"Is this spot acceptable?" The old man's detestable smirk was plastered across his face.

I looked back; it was about fifty or sixty meters away from Nie Chuan and the others, so I nodded, yet I found myself at a loss for words.

But in truth, nothing needed to be said, because his face itself was the greatest form of mockery.

So, holding nothing back, I clenched my fist and swung it straight toward his face.

I reasoned that the old man only knew I could make arrows curve; he probably didn't know I could use that same force to propel myself forward. Therefore, this initial attack wasn't a full-power Charge Punch, but a standard strike.

The result was as I predicted: as my fist neared his face, he lightly raised his left hand and caught it.

His strength was astonishingly immense. My hand made a crunching sound in his grip, almost being crushed into a misshapen mess.

Enduring the sharp, intense pain, I channeled the psychic energy within me, instantly propelling myself forward.

Though the old man's power was great, through repeated use, I was confident that this burst of kinetic force would surely surpass his strength.

Indeed, under the sudden, fierce momentum of my forward thrust, the old man couldn't hold firm and stumbled back a few paces.

Seeing a flicker of confusion cross his face, he pulled back slightly while demanding, "Where did you learn that trick!"

The old man gripped my hand tightly, his brute force quickly neutralizing my momentum. He planted his feet firmly, one forward and one back, then stared at me and asked again, "Did you find that book! Give it to me! I can let you all go!"

I felt a fresh wave of agonizing pain shoot through my fist. In reality, I was in a weakened state right then, unable to properly use my abilities, making me extremely vulnerable to a quick finish.

This was a miscalculation on my part; I had thought that attack would at least send him flying, but his strength was far greater than I anticipated.

If, at that moment, he hadn't been trying to persuade me to hand over the ancient book, but had instead twisted my arm with force, he could have easily reduced my hand to a comminuted fracture.

I offered no reply, instead using the few seconds he spent questioning me to rapidly recover my psychic energy, then propelled myself backward using the stored kinetic force.

I successfully ripped my fist free from his grasp and landed four or five meters away, panting heavily.

The old man with white hair sneered darkly and said, "You cannot be my match. Even if you obtained that book, you haven't had enough time to become a threat. If you refuse to hand it over, don't blame me for being impolite."

With that, he curled his five fingers into a claw and lunged toward my solar plexus.

This strike was lightning-fast and vicious; normally, I wouldn't have been able to dodge it.

Now with my psychic energy partially protecting me, I resorted to my old trick again, targeting his supporting leg with my power.

The old man suddenly seemed as if he had stepped on a hidden trap; his footing faltered. However, he let out a fierce roar and leaped directly off the ground, sending a punch smashing toward me.

I was rendered speechless by his ferocity. Watching the fist, as large as a cooking pot, hurtle towards me, looking ready to smash my skull open, I scrambled into an awkward tumble on the ground.

Just as I rolled clear, I heard a loud thud as the ground was struck, sending stones and debris flying everywhere.

I knew his movements were incredibly fast; I had suffered because of that before.

Once I was on the ground, he would inevitably raise his foot to kick my stomach.

Sure enough, as I completed my roll, I saw a leg swing toward me.

By now my psychic energy had mostly recovered, so I hastily used it to counteract the force of the incoming kick.

When the two forces met and cancelled each other out, it still wasn't enough to stop the old man.

My abdomen took the full force of the blow, and instantly, I felt a surge of bile rising.

It could be said that if I hadn't negated part of the impact with my mind, I might have spent half a year in the hospital, or simply died on the spot.

Even without being fatally wounded, I was still violently sent flying.

I flew about two or three meters before crashing to the ground, tumbling another seven or eight times before finally stopping.

My vision spun violently, my ears rang with a high-pitched buzz, and I was partially disoriented.

Shaking my head, preparing to climb up, a large hand clamped around my throat, hoisting me into the air.

This feeling was terribly familiar. Once again, I was face-to-face with the old man with white hair.

Seeing how utterly exhausted I was, the old man smiled and said, "One last chance. Hand over the ancient book."

I thought to myself that this man was formidable, but stubbornly single-minded. The ancient book was clearly on my person, yet he didn't just search me; he insisted on coercing me into producing it.

I didn't know how important the book was to him, nor what terrible consequences might arise if it fell into his hands, but driven by my innate stubbornness and disdain for death, I remained resolute and said nothing.

The old man's expression turned incredibly cold, and he sneered, "Fine, you seek your own demise."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe, saying, "I will give you the same fate as your friend."

He aimed the tip of the needle toward my eye, but just as he prepared to plunge it in, I used my psychic power to bend the needle backward.

Watching the needle slowly curve, the old man's expression suddenly shifted to something unsettlingly strange.

Then, something that completely stunned me happened: the needle, bent by my mental command, slowly straightened itself out again.

The old man remarked, "Don't assume you're the only one who knows this trick. I simply felt it wasn't necessary to use this ability against scum like you. Well? Are you convinced now?"

My entire being felt as if it had plummeted into an ice cave, realizing that from the very beginning, I never stood a chance. The entire exchange had merely been the old man playing with me.

Just as I was sinking into despair, awaiting the injection of neurotoxin into my eye, four figures suddenly materialized around us from somewhere in the darkness.

I flicked my eyes sideways and recognized the four experts the old man had brought on the ship: Leimen, Ishida, Yoshiko, and that unknown skinny man.

"What is it? Why are you back?" The old man stopped fiddling with the syringe and asked with confusion.

At that moment, Leimen spoke in English, "Boss, the four members of the rear reconnaissance team have lost contact, and the advance team is in trouble. They can only maintain contact with us via Morse code—they might be in grave danger."

The old man frowned, looked at me, and asked, "The four men on Blade Mountain—did you kill them?"

I nodded without hesitation and said, "That’s right, I killed them. If you want revenge, come and get it."

Unexpectedly, the old man replied with a simple phrase: "That's good then."

After uttering those words, the old man actually let me go, handed the syringe to Ishida, and said, "You handle these three. I’m going to check things out immediately. If that person has caught up, things could get complicated; don't mess up Lord Lei Yun Seng's important mission."

Ishida took the syringe from the old man and replied, "Hai!"

Then, the old man led the other three away quickly into the depths of the hellish darkness, leaving only the three of us and Ishida behind.

After the four of them were gone, Ishida glanced at me, then down at the syringe in his hand.

I knew this man was also incredibly difficult to handle. Back on the ship, even the old man with white hair showed him considerable deference when he was under some kind of restraint.

So, fighting Ishida still didn't give me a high chance of winning, but it was certainly much better than fighting the old man.

Thinking this, I once again used my mind to bend the needle in Ishida's syringe backward.

Ishida watched the needle curve but said nothing; instead, he tossed the syringe onto the ground and spoke to me in broken English, "Get up."

I had been sitting on the ground, and now I stood up.

Only when I stood fully upright did I realize I was an entire head shorter than this robust, gray-haired brute.

"Hand over the book honestly, and I absolutely won't kill you," Ishida said with a cold, detached expression.

I responded simply and roughly, "No book to give. If you have the guts, fight me one-on-one."

Ishida scoffed dismissively. "Very well. Today, we’ll have a true duel between men."

He then stripped off his outer coat, revealing a tight black tank top underneath. Seeing the chocolate-bar definition of his chest muscles, I couldn't help but swallow hard.

Ishida tightened the half-gauntlet on his hand, drew a dagger, and announced, "Come at me."

I was no less defiant. I retrieved the greatsword from my back, adopted a distinctly unprofessional stance, and started advancing toward Ishida with a swing.

Ishida seemed to anticipate my move, blocking my greatsword with the metal plate on the back of his fist, while his other hand lunged toward my face.

Seeing his fierce approach, I immediately channeled my inner energy, preparing to dart backward.

But this time, I failed; I remained stubbornly fixed in place.

However, just as Ishida's fist was about to smash my nose into my face, it abruptly stopped.