The Soul Reaper considered his line of thought for a moment. “A mountain remains unmoved, but flowing water does not rot. So, you mean water can overcome it?”

Logan Sullivan smiled. “Why not give it a try?”

At these words, Soulwarden stood up. Logan Sullivan, as if calling a dog, beckoned to Zach Warren with a wave, raising his hand grandly and impatiently tapping his watch face.

Zach Warren's figure flickered and vanished from where she stood.

Soulwarden raised his hand, dispersing the gray mist. Then, pointing at the snow, he caused the ring of ice and snow around the Terra-Spike to melt at a speed visible to the naked eye, turning into a thin circle of water.

Sure enough, the previously restless Terra-Spike miraculously quieted down, like a madman temporarily soothed, menacingly silent.

This time, Soulwarden didn’t dare to be reckless. He cautiously stood outside the ring of water, observing the Terra-Spike's reaction.

With his actions, more and more ice and snow melted. In the frigid snowy mountains, the water flow grew, slowly seeping through the thick snow like little snakes, “hissing” as they approached the Terra-Spike.

Logan Sullivan heard a buzzing sound. The moment the gray mist dispersed, he heard it. At first, he thought the Terra-Spike's influence on him hadn’t completely faded, but then, within the buzzing, he caught the intermittent voice of a person.

“Not yet old... already withered...”

He felt a sense of familiarity, like the sudden unease after that earthquake.

Logan Sullivan listened carefully to the voice. In a moment, he was almost entranced, and involuntarily blurted out along with it: “A stone withered before old, water frozen before cold, a body dead before birth, a soul melted before burning...”

Soulwarden suddenly turned his head. His face was hidden, but his gaze seemed to pierce through a person.

Logan Sullivan snapped out of it, immediately regaining his senses. He pinched his brow hard, suspecting he was allergic to something—he was nearly hallucinating. For a moment, he felt that the boulder called Terra-Spike was establishing some kind of connection with him, drawing him closer.

Just as he lowered his head, a flash of white light reflected off the snow caught his eye. From Logan Sullivan's angle, he could just see a person appear out of thin air behind Soulwarden, swinging a massive axe straight down at the back of Soulwarden's head.

Ever since entering the valley, Logan Sullivan had kept one hand in his pocket, never far from his gun. Now, he reacted instantly, raising his gun hand to brace against Soulwarden's shoulder and firing without blinking.

Silenced, the bullet struck the attacker right in the forehead. At the same time, Soulwarden swung the Soulcleaver horizontally, whipping up a fierce wind like a pitch-black whirlwind. The blade and scabbard scraped together with a piercing sound, the tip clashing with the giant axe.

Both men retreated three steps. Only then did Logan Sullivan see that the axe-wielder wore a ghastly white demon mask, with a bullet hole in the forehead oozing black liquid.

Logan Sullivan looked at Soulwarden, then at the stranger, momentarily unable to make sense of the situation—he’d never heard of such a person before.

Masked Wraith slowly raised a hand, wiped away the black blood from his forehead, and turned to Logan Sullivan. The ghastly mask twisted with his movement, the “painted-on” features slowly contorting into... an almost smiling expression.

“Master,” Masked Wraith's muffled voice came from beneath the mask, “it’s been a thousand years, and you haven’t changed a bit.”

“...” Logan Sullivan felt a bit uncomfortable with this way of reminiscing.

The mask’s eyebrows suddenly drooped, and the thing showed a look of laughing and crying at once. Masked Wraith continued, “But in the past, Master, you weren’t so merciless to me. Still, it doesn’t matter. However you treat me is fine. For the favor of fire, I would die a hundred times and—”

Soulwarden didn’t let him finish. The blade of the Soulcleaver condensed into a blinding light, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle. Though he wasn’t sure who was who, Logan Sullivan wisely retreated to the side, lest the two powerhouses run out of space and he get caught in the crossfire.

He had never seen Soulwarden so furious before.

Zach Warren's voice came from his watch: “Chief Zhao, who is that?”

Logan Sullivan, cigarette dangling from his lips, tucked both hands into his sleeves, squatted to the side in a shifty posture, and muttered, “How should I know? I don’t know everyone... Do I look like the type who sleeps around?”

If Zach Warren were a bit more outspoken, she’d probably only have one thing to say to Logan Sullivan in this situation: “Could you be any more shameless?” But, being naturally gentle and reserved, she could only respond with silence.

With the mood of watching a 3D blockbuster, Logan Sullivan leisurely spectated for a while, then stubbed out his cigarette in the snow, breathed into his frozen hands, and rubbed them together.

“A stone withered before old, water frozen before cold.” He spoke, glancing to the side, tapping his watch. “You know, I suddenly have an idea I want to try.”

Zach Warren dreaded his ideas and quickly called out, “Chief Zhao! Chief Zhao!”

Logan Sullivan ignored her. He unfastened a bunch of keys from his belt. The keychain was old, shaped like a book, its design worn smooth. On the back was a crooked character “镇”, with a slit in the middle, apparently hollow.

Carrying the keys, he walked toward the Terra-Spike. Suddenly, several Netherbeast burst from the surging ground, surrounding him menacingly.

Logan Sullivan swept his gaze over them. The Netherbeast didn’t attack, but blocked his way to the Terra-Spike with fierce intent.

Logan Sullivan crossed his hands and stretched lazily, drawling, “Oh, I get it now. So he’s the ‘master’, and you took the Reincarnation Sundial too. But what do you plan to do with the Four Relics?”

The Netherbeast naturally didn’t answer, only stepped forward in unison, trying to intimidate him.

Logan Sullivan sneered, pulled out a cigarette, opened the book-shaped keychain, which didn’t hold a family photo but a small ball of fire. Like a delicate lighter, it sparked with a click, lighting his cigarette.

With a snap, Logan Sullivan closed the little pendant, but didn’t put the cigarette in his mouth, just held it between two fingers. He sighed softly, “In this life, I hate two things: ugly people causing trouble, and vicious dogs blocking my way. You all are truly the best sappers of the new era—always the first to step on someone else’s landmines...”

Before he finished, the cigarette in his hand shot out like a firecracker, whistling through the air. The moment it left his fingers, it burst into a fireball with a long tail, like a meteor streaking straight at the Netherbeast.

One Netherbeast shrieked, “Truefire Flame!” and in an instant, two who couldn’t dodge were engulfed by the flames. The Firefeather Blaze was extraordinary, instantly reducing these monsters to ash.

In the firelight, Logan Sullivan smiled. “True fire, fake fire—country bumpkins who’ve never seen the world. Don’t you know this is the number one hidden weapon in the Arsenal Codex, the legendary ‘Skybreaker Monkey’?”

The so-called “Skybreaker Monkey” fireball shot straight for the base of the Terra-Spike.

Chapter 42 Terra-Spike …

Soulwarden heard the commotion behind him, spun his wrist, and swung the Soulcleaver at Masked Wraith's head. Taking advantage of the opening, he glanced back, nearly blinded by the fireball, and couldn’t spot Logan Sullivan. In his urgency, he shouted, “Yunlan!”

In that moment of distraction, Masked Wraith didn’t dodge, but met the Soulcleaver with his face. The mask and blade clashed, leaving a gash. Strangely, the wielder of the Soulcleaver seemed hesitant, and, coming to his senses, abruptly pulled back, the blade slicing across the mask but not daring to break it, passing by Masked Wraith.

Masked Wraith laughed loudly, swept past like a mass of black mist, and charged at Logan Sullivan. With a swirl of his cloak, he caught the cigarette butt ignited by the Truefire Flame, turned his back to the Terra-Spike, and stood before Logan Sullivan. The Netherbeast immediately retreated behind Masked Wraith, forming a ring around the Terra-Spike.

Logan Sullivan squinted at Masked Wraith, speaking unhurriedly, “That pheasant Firefeather bragged to me that the Truefire Flame could make the Monkey King cry for his mother, but it can’t even burn your ragged robe. You must be someone important.”

The mask on Masked Wraith's face became expressionless as he looked at him. “I don’t wish to harm you. Master, it’s best if you don’t get involved in this matter.”