Wood Style And Sharingan

"Mingyue's illusion isn't simple. Your companion is probably being tortured mercilessly right now," Qingfeng sneered, his gaze fixed on Yan Yue.

"What exactly do you want?" Yan Yue asked through gritted teeth, unable to move. She was heavily injured, facing a third-level psychic. Escape was impossible.

"Want?" Qingfeng chuckled darkly. "Our goal is simple—kill you."

With a twisted grin, he reached out and gently lifted Yan Yue's snow-pale chin. His other hand rubbed his own, his eyes roaming freely over her trembling form.

"It's a real pity to waste such a pretty girl."

Yan Yue's expression changed. A flicker of fear appeared in her eyes. "What are you trying to do?"

"I've been stuck in this filthy City of Sin for far too long," Qingfeng said with a sinister smirk. "It's rare to come across someone so pure and beautiful. It'd be a shame to just kill you… when I could enjoy you first."

His hand began sliding slowly down from her chin, fingers trailing over her neck.

Whoosh!

A sudden rush of air swept past. Qingfeng immediately activated his spatial ability and vanished, reappearing safely several meters away.

Smith's sneak attack had missed—but he didn't press the assault. Instead, he hurried over to help Yan Yue to her feet.

"Are you alright?"

Yan Yue shook her head weakly and quickly analyzed the situation in a low voice. "He's a fire and space-type user. His spatial ability allows him to teleport over short distances freely, and possibly use teleportation circles for longer-range movement—just like when he brought us here."

Smith nodded grimly. "A third-level psychic with both fire and space abilities… not easy to handle."

He activated his Sharingan. Scarlet tomoe spun slowly in his eyes as he locked his gaze onto Qingfeng, bracing for another strike.

After dodging Smith's ambush, Qingfeng glanced at Mingyue, who now lay unconscious beside him.

"You actually defeated Mingyue?" His expression turned to one of disbelief.

Illusionist duels typically happened entirely within the mind. There were rarely any physical signs of battle, and outsiders seldom even noticed the moment of victory or defeat.

Mingyue had clearly dragged Smith into his illusion space. How had he ended up unconscious?

A third-level illusionist losing to a first-level one? It made no sense.

"As expected of Jiang Lei's son…" Qingfeng muttered, eyes narrowing. "But I'm not giving you another chance."

He raised his palm, and a swirling tornado of red-hot flames formed in his hand. It quickly grew in size, roaring outward with destructive force.

Boom!

Smith suddenly pressed his palms together, and faint golden markings spread from the corners of his eyes.

Sage Mode—activated.

Against a third-level fire and space user, there was no room for error.

"Holy Water Shield!" Yan Yue shouted, enduring her injuries to conjure a massive wall of water between them and the incoming fire tornado.

But the difference in power was immense. A first-level ability couldn't possibly withstand the strength of a third-level fire technique.

Crash!

The Holy Water Shield lasted barely a second before the flames completely evaporated it, surging forward unabated.

Smith didn't hesitate. He grabbed Yan Yue, stomped the ground, and shot away at incredible speed—Sage Mode giving him just enough agility to evade the raging inferno and land in a safer zone.

"We can't fight him head-on," he muttered. "You'll need to assist me."

"Got it."

Gently setting Yan Yue down, Smith drew his standard-issue dagger, eyes gleaming with determination. Then he charged.

"Let's finish this!"

Qingfeng sneered as Smith rushed in. He casually raised a hand, conjuring another flame.

But before it could take shape, Yan Yue took action.

"Holy Water Chains!"

The moisture on the ground surged upward again, forming twin chains of water that wrapped tightly around Qingfeng's arms.

Smith closed in, dagger in hand, and lunged at Qingfeng with full force.

Whoosh!

But just before impact, Qingfeng vanished once more, easily escaping the water chains.

"Smith, behind you!" Yan Yue screamed.

Smith spun instantly, slashing behind him.

Clang!

Qingfeng caught his wrist mid-swing, and with a slight twist, forced Smith to drop the dagger.

With his other hand, he caught the falling blade and, without mercy, drove it into Smith's chest—straight toward his heart.

"Smith!" Yan Yue's scream echoed across the room.

Death was near.

Qingfeng leaned close and said coldly, "You have talent, I'll admit that. With a few more years, you might've actually been dangerous."

"But sadly, you won't live to see that day."

He let go of the dagger, allowing it to remain embedded in Smith's chest.

But the next moment, something unexpected happened.

Smith, who should have collapsed, suddenly looked up and—smack!—delivered a sharp slap to Qingfeng's face.

Though the force wasn't strong, Qingfeng's instincts kicked in. He teleported away immediately, landing in the farthest corner and glaring at Smith with narrowed eyes.

"You shouldn't speak so soon…"

Smith's voice was calm.

He grasped the hilt of the dagger and slowly pulled it out.

As the blade slid free, his body began to change—from the wound outward, his skin and flesh transformed into wood.

A wooden clone.

From the shadows, the real Smith stepped out and picked up a second dagger.

"A clone?" Qingfeng muttered in disbelief.

The ability to create clones wasn't rare—but this one was different.

It was so lifelike that even Qingfeng hadn't sensed the difference.

Two Smiths now stood before him. One a wooden double, the other very real.

"You've given me too many surprises," Qingfeng admitted. "If I don't kill you today, you'll become a nightmare."

A double S-level with a clone indistinguishable from the real body… and capable of defeating a third-level illusionist?

This was no ordinary student.

"You should feel honored," Qingfeng said coldly. "Now, I'll use my full power."

He pressed his palms together. A wave of spiritual energy exploded from his body, forming a massive spiral of searing flame.

But just then—

Flash!

Smith's figure appeared directly in front of Qingfeng like a ghost.

It was already too late for Qingfeng to respond.

The dagger plunged into his chest—piercing his heart.

Cough!

Blood gushed from Qingfeng's mouth as intense pain spread across his body. His knees buckled.

"H-how… do you… have spatial powers?" he gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.

He was a spatial ability user himself—he could feel it clearly. Just now, Smith had used space teleportation.

Smith looked him in the eye. "This is the Flying Thunder God Technique."

"My wooden clone placed a mark on your body earlier. No matter where you go, as long as that mark exists, I can appear next to you instantly."

He yanked the dagger free.

"Rest in peace."

Qingfeng collapsed, his eyes still wide open in shock, and lay still.

It was over.

Smith let out a long breath, finally relaxing after the fierce battle.

If Qingfeng hadn't been so arrogant, he might've actually won. But that arrogance had cost him his life.

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