Not all twelve phantoms had fully coalesced; the other eleven were mere hazy concepts, their forms utterly indistinct. Yet, the one fiery-red silhouette was perfectly clear in its appearance.

Clad in crimson fire-scales, standing atop two fire dragons, with fire serpents adorning its ears, its visage was fierce and terrifying. An overwhelmingly powerful aura emanated from it, stunning Hei Mingba into a stupefied silence.

“Impossible, absolutely impossible, how can this be?” Hei Mingba muttered ceaselessly, as if talking to himself, or perhaps desperately trying to convey something to Ye Jingyu.

Ye Jingyu remained still, observing Hei Mingba with curiosity, unable to fathom the cause of such sudden unrestraint. The fiery-red figure, without any command from Ye Jingyu, also assessed the Hei Mingba before him. Especially upon sensing the Flame of Destruction within the demon king, a smile—the kind one wears upon spotting a delicacy—flickered across its ethereal face, as if Hei Mingba were merely a delectable dish laid out before it.

This state persisted for a full quarter of an hour before Hei Mingba snapped back to reality, the shock in his eyes slowly yielding to a semblance of calm.

“Impossible, it absolutely cannot be real. Divine Venerable Zhurong perished long ago! You dare conjure the visage of Divine Venerable Zhurong through mere illusion? You deserve death!” Hei Mingba’s gaze snapped back to Ye Jingyu, and with a roar, he suddenly lashed out, slamming a palm toward him.

Ye Jingyu started. Divine Venerable Zhurong? He conjured Zhurong with illusion? What did that mean? Before he could fully process it, a colossal hand, utterly engulfed in purple flames, descended upon him.

The power and grade of these flames far surpassed those wielded by Yan Senxu. Even with Ye Jingyu possessing the Chaos Body, and even if his Flame Acupoint could absorb this Flame of Destruction, he simply could not withstand such a strike. It was akin to being able to eat one jin of rice, yet being presented with a hundred jin of prime beef—delicious, perhaps, but utterly impossible to consume.

The figure instinctively tried to evade, but found itself paralyzed against the lightning-fast strike. His entire body was already shrouded by the sea of purple fire.

Feeling the searing heat of the Flame of Destruction, Ye Jingyu’s expression twisted in pain. His Battle Soul Divine Armor began to crackle audibly, sounding as if it were splitting apart. A foul scent of charring arose from his skin; clearly, it could not endure the extreme temperature.

Inside, his Flame Acupoint greedily devoured the incoming flames, yet it managed to absorb only a negligible fraction.

As the purple flames threatened to completely envelop Ye Jingyu, the massive phantom let out a deafening roar. It opened its massive mouth and inhaled sharply, sucking the entire torrent of purple fire directly into its maw.

Its speed was breathtaking, akin to a whale drawing in the ocean. The purple flames that had just completely surrounded Ye Jingyu were vanished without a trace.

However, perhaps due to the inherent fragility of its ethereal form, although the mass of purple fire was drawn inside, it immediately began burning outward from the phantom’s surface, as if trying to incinerate the phantom itself.

A visible flicker of astonishment crossed the phantom’s face, though there was no trace of panic. It muttered an arcane incantation, and the purple flames seeping out instantly vanished without a trace. It then seemed to look up, not quite satisfied, and addressed Hei Mingba: “Little brat, not bad. You cultivate the pure Flame Extinguishing Divine Art, and this Flame of Destruction shows some maturity. But that bit just now was far too little. Give me a few more rounds!”

The moment the words "Little brat" left its lips, both Ye Jingyu and Hei Mingba froze in shock. This was an Archdemon King who had lived for countless ages, yet he was being addressed as a "little brat"—this was even more stunning to Ye Jingyu than if Dugu Bacheng had been called the same.

Yet, compared to Ye Jingyu’s astonishment, Hei Mingba was overcome with an unparalleled, fervent excitement. Ye Jingyu watched as several drops of purple liquid spilled from his eyes. Unlike normal tears, however, his tears were also composed of flame.

The expressions of doubt, anger, and surprise completely vanished from Hei Mingba’s face, replaced only by profound emotion, as if a long-lost child had suddenly encountered their own parent.

With a heavy thud, Hei Mingba’s imposing body, a body containing immeasurable might, dropped straight to his knees.

“Hei Ming Clan’s 397th generation descendant, Hei Mingba, pays respects to Divine Venerable Zhurong!” A solemn voice emanated from Hei Mingba’s throat, and he bowed reverently toward the fiery-red giant phantom.

This sight rendered Ye Jingyu utterly stunned—no, not stunned, but completely dumbfounded. Hei Mingba, one of the Eight Archdemon Kings of the Demon Realm, perhaps the most senior among them, capable of ordering an army that could result in a million corpses with a single command, was now kneeling before this phantom.

And what had he called him? Divine Venerable Zhurong? Zhurong? Zhurong? Was he truly Zhurong? Ye Jingyu looked up at the gigantic fiery-red phantom, noting a look of confusion mirroring his own on its face.

“Divine Venerable, this junior acted disrespectfully just now. I beg the Divine Venerable’s forgiveness,” Seeing the giant phantom did not immediately respond to him, Hei Mingba struck his head hard against the ground once more.

His heart overflowed with reverence and dread. He had dared to attack Divine Venerable Zhurong—a crime worthy of ten thousand deaths. The moment he first saw the fiery-red giant, he had been struck dumb by its appearance.

Ears adorned with fire serpents, clad in crimson scales, standing on fire dragons—who else could this be but the Fire God Zhurong? Perhaps others might not recognize him, but Hei Mingba not only recognized him but could never mistake him. When he was very, very young, he had accompanied his father to meet the Fire God Zhurong. Their clan’s Flame Extinguishing Divine Art was personally passed down by Zhurong himself; how could he fail to recognize him?

However, knowing that the Fire God Zhurong had long perished, he hadn't believed it at first. But when the phantom entirely consumed the burst of Flame of Destruction he launched, and when the phantom uttered the words "Flame Extinguishing Divine Art," he became utterly convinced that the figure before him was the ancient Fire God Zhurong.

Besides the Hei Ming family, the only entity privy to the Flame Extinguishing Divine Art was the Fire God Zhurong himself. His appearance could be illusory, but the secrets he spoke of, and the incantation used to devour that mass of purple flame, could not be faked.

For this reason, Hei Mingba was utterly certain: this phantom must be the Fire God Zhurong, or at the very least, one of his avatars...

(What does 'one misfortune never comes alone' mean? I understand now. My phone was stolen, my desktop motherboard broke, and now my laptop is malfunctioning, crashing intermittently. It’s maddening. Writing a single word has become agonizing. This year is truly disastrous! But everyone rest assured, I am at an internet cafe now. I will update as much as scheduled for today, absolutely no less. Off to write!)