Chapter 38

Before Sylvalando, suspended in the air, could decide how to respond to the monster chieftain on the ground, he witnessed "Candidate 001" gently set down the monster chieftain he had been holding in his arms, following the creature's aggrieved act of coquetry.

Then, Sylvalando watched, wide-eyed, as "Candidate 001"—who was clearly not of the Winged Tribe and possessed no wings—donned a purple robe and suddenly levitated into the air just as he had.

The cub on the ground looked up in astonishment at the Demon Lord Wanming, who had ascended into the sky, and suddenly began to clap. "Wow! Mingming, you can fly! That’s amazing!"

Sylvalando, also hovering in mid-air, felt an inexplicable surge of irritation at the monster chieftain’s praise for the "Candidate 001" before him.

It was merely levitation; what was so impressive about that?

He knew that certain races possessed unique cultivation methods, allowing them to achieve flight by projecting their spiritual energy, even without wings. For candidates like them, flight was hardly a remarkable skill.

Yet, this thought had barely flickered in Sylvalando’s mind for a second before he was forced into a rapid aerial dodge. The purple-robed figure opposite him had flicked a wrist, manifesting a long, lightning-like purple whip.

A practitioner of spirit control!

Sylvalando thought to himself—these spirit-control types could project their spiritual energy and cultivated power into various manifestations. Just as he could imbue his arrows with spiritual energy to strike enemies or apply pressure to an opponent's mental sea to force submission, this rival was different. While his own power was bolstered by physical prowess and combat techniques, his spiritual energy, though potent, could not be condensed into a solid weapon like that of "Candidate 001," nor could he use it to sustain flight for combat.

A formidable opponent!

Sylvalando instinctively realized this. It was clearly because of the monster cub below that this powerful "Candidate 001" had taken to the skies to engage him.

Sure enough, a moment later, "Candidate 001" issued a threat: "Release the Netherworld clansman below, and leave!"

Sylvalando studied the "001" before him. The man’s spiritual power was terrifyingly strong and utilized with great versatility. He could even bypass language barriers by transmitting directly into Sylvalando’s mind. Sylvalando watched him warily—facing such a master of the spirit arts, he had to remain vigilant against mental pollution or injury.

Even so, Candidate 002, Sylvalando, who had never been one to submit, gripped his bow and stared coldly at the figure in purple. "Why should I? This is my spoils of war!"

He knew, of course, that "001" wanted to take this monster to curry favor with the cub who had just been fawning over him. Sylvalando sneered, "Candidate 001, just because you have subdued that monster chieftain does not mean every monster in Plane 25838 belongs to you!"

Demon Lord Wanming frowned. He did not actually understand what this winged creature was saying, but he replied in the same cold tone, "They were always mine to begin with!"

As the leader of the Netherworld Clan, all the monsters in Plane 25838 were his kin, his to protect and his to command.

Sylvalando clearly did not understand the true meaning behind the words of the purple-robed "Candidate 001" either; he simply perceived the man as stubborn, arrogant, and insatiably greedy.

Why should he? The creature below was his prize! Even if it were to be gifted to the cub chieftain, it should be his own choice to give, not something to be surrendered to "001!"

Fueled by this indignation, Sylvalando scoffed, "Then let us settle this with strength. If you can defeat me, it won't be too late to take the monster then!"

Demon Lord Wanming looked at the winged bird-man, his face grim. "I agree."

In a world where strength reigns supreme, as the leader of the Netherworld, if he wished to reclaim his kin, he had to defeat the one who held them captive.

Before moving to strike, however, Wanming remembered the cub below. With a wave of his hand, he cast a protective barrier around the little one, shielding it from any stray harm caused by their battle.

Seeing this, Sylvalando lost his reservations. The monster chieftain below appeared far too fragile; such a tiny, tearful cub—he couldn't fathom how it had been captured by this cold-blooded "Candidate 001."

*This little one must have cried terribly when it was caught,* he thought. *And then forced to keep subduing its own kin for this 001...*

For some reason, Sylvalando’s sense of justice flared. He felt that even if he had to give up the monster—perhaps just to let the cub play with it—that was fine. But as for this "Candidate 001"...

*Heh.*

Sylvalando sneered. *Want a fight? Then let’s fight!*

In an instant, Sylvalando began to amass his spiritual energy. Stronger, specialized power surged into his bow. Across from him, Demon Lord Wanming was enveloped in a torrent of demonic energy, drawing upon the purple miasma of the entire plane.

On the ground, the monster, previously writhing in pain from the arrows pinning it down, ceased its wailing. Looking up at its leader, who had returned to his true form, tears welled in the creature's eyes—tears that no ordinary person could see.

The Netherworld Clan, cursed for countless ages, had finally seen a glimmer of hope. Their Demon Lord had broken the curse—could their total liberation be far behind?

The "monster" and the cub, Su You, sheltered within the barrier, watched the erupting battle above. The surging demonic energy created terrifying waves in the air, yet the hybrid Winged Tribe warrior, Sylvalando, remained steady, his bow glowing with increasing intensity.

Sylvalando struck first. As his bow reached its limit, he unleashed a volley of streak-arrows. The Demon Lord shifted, and the arrows pierced only his afterimage. But just as the arrows seemed to fly off into the distance, they curved in mid-air, turning back to strike at the Demon Lord from a different angle!

The commotion caused by the battle was immense. Not only the other candidates but the monsters of the Netherworld clan, still under the curse, sensed the disturbance in the void:

"The Demon Lord..."
"It is our leader..."
"It is His Excellency the Demon Lord!"
"His Excellency... he has returned to normal!"
"The curse! The curse has been broken!"

The monsters, who had fallen into chaos and abandoned all hope, were galvanized by the sight of their leader. Their minds, previously eroded by the curse, were suddenly revitalized.

"The curse is broken!"
"Lord Wanming’s curse has been broken!"
"Go... find the Demon Lord..."
"He must know how the curse was lifted!"

Many monsters, despite their hideous, repulsive forms, began to crawl, step by step, toward the site of the battle.

The other candidates had also noticed the clash:

"That one with the big wings... that’s Candidate 002! The hybrid Winged warrior!"
"And the one in purple... oh, I see. That’s the legendary Candidate 001, the one who carries the monster chieftain around?"
"Finally, the legendary 001... Is this a duel between Candidate 001 and Candidate 002?!"
"Incredible. We’re only in the second stage of the eliminations, and they’re already fighting?"
"Whatever the case, 001 looks terrifyingly strong. He’s controlling the natural energy of this plane... is it because he subdued their leader?"
"I don’t know... but don’t you think 002 is just as terrifying? Look at those arrows—they’re curving back on their own!"

Everyone watched the scene, the arrows continuously converging on the Demon Lord. Though Wanming kept vanishing and reappearing, the relentless volley seemed destined to land. Yet, the lightning-whip in Wanming’s hand possessed equally lethal power.

No one could say for certain who would strike whom first when the arrows met the lightning.