Apocalypse Gachapon

A ghostly head materialized in midair.

It had detached from the great banner, gradually taking form above it.

Though the process was actually swift, it felt agonizingly slow to observers.

The massive black-gray spectral head gaped its maw, emitting sounds that hovered between laughter and weeping—a cacophony that dizzied the mind.

Even top-tier beings like Ye Zhongming were briefly affected, though they quickly regained clarity. They now understood why the ghost head’s formation had seemed so protracted.

The sounds emanating from its mouth had mind-disrupting properties.

Ye Zhongming stepped forward, positioning himself directly before the spectral apparition.

With Death King Tree and Mo Ye now fully engaged against the Palace Giant Aba, and Talking Lady and her black cat standing guard, the task of confronting this eerie banner fell solely to him.

He trusted that Death King Tree and Mo Ye would soon dispatch the Palace Giant.

Despite Aba’s earlier show of strength—holding its own against Death King Tree and even weathering attacks from other Cloud Peak powerhouses—those had been half-hearted assaults. Once these beings fought in earnest, it wouldn’t last long.

But this Soul Banner? Ye Zhongming treated it with utmost gravity.

Taking his stance to intercept any attack, he flicked his right wrist, producing an ancient yellow talisman marked with vermilion sigils of obscure meaning.

While not absolute, most evolved found Buddhist and Taoist artifacts particularly effective against spectral entities. Ye Zhongming was no exception.

This item, Bright Light Holy Talisman, had come from the Gate of Sacrifice.

Anything bearing the title “Holy” was extraordinary—this was no different.

It had no rank—just a simple slip of paper that, upon closer inspection, resembled the shoddy printed charms peddled by street charlatans.

Yet Ye Zhongming knew its power. Its description contained just three words:

“Dispels all wickedness.”

What constituted wickedness?

To Ye Zhongming, this ghost head—no, the entire banner—was the very definition.

The talisman ignited with unnatural purple flames.

The spectral head had now fully formed, its ghastly noises reaching a crescendo when suddenly—it laughed viciously and lunged at the nearest target…

Yangos.

The dragon had been retreating, albeit sluggishly. In its view, Cloud Peak still held absolute superiority. Having witnessed its master’s might firsthand, Yangos believed even the elders of its pureblood kin might pale in comparison—only the Elemental Dragonlords could potentially rival him.

Its hesitation stemmed from greed—a chance to devour apex-level flesh and edge closer to level nine.

This opportunism made it the ghost head’s first victim.

Now, Yangos was ferocious—few of Cloud Peak’s war beasts could match its innate viciousness. Had fate not brought it to Cloud Peak, it would likely have become a scourge upon the land.

Yet it was also cowardly, quick to flee when outmatched.

Having already sensed the Soul Banner’s extraordinary power—and doubting its ability to withstand it—the dragon turned tail without a sound when targeted.

Yangos had far more faith in its escape speed (not fleeing, mind you) than combat prowess.

But soon it realized—the ghost head was faster.

The banner’s apparition moved unnaturally, not flying but teleporting through space.

Initially positioned before Ye Zhongming, it blinked to his lower flank, then again—now alarmingly close to Yangos.

Ye Zhongming’s eyes narrowed. The burning talisman vanished from his hand—only to materialize perfectly upon the ghost head’s gaping maw as it prepared to swallow Yangos whole.

POP!

The specter exploded into swirling black-gray mist, buying Yangos enough time to flee, its scales slick with dragon sweat.

Yet things weren’t proceeding as Ye Zhongming anticipated.

He’d intended that talisman for the banner itself.

Now, a second ghost head had formed above the Soul Banner—identical to the first.

Wind and Thunder appeared in Ye Zhongming’s grip. If talismans wouldn’t work, he’d cleave the banner apart.

But before he could act—

The dispersed mist from the first ghost head coalesced anew, forming thousands of miniature specters!

They scattered instantly, streaking toward beings still struggling with the seismic chaos below, their shrill cries resembling delighted laughter.

Every Cloud Peak member’s expression soured.

Though the ghost heads’ exact lethality remained unknown, their deadly potential was undeniable. If these things made contact…

While Cloud Peak’s evolved were high-level, these apparitions caused even level-nines to pause. Ordinary defenses might prove inadequate.

Core members and eight-star war beasts reacted first, their attacks intercepting the specters midair while others activated all available defenses.

Talking Lady’s black cat leaped from her arms, transforming into a shadowy streak that joined Death King Tree and Mo Ye against the Palace Giant.

Killing it would stabilize the ground, giving evolved better odds against the specters.

Talking Lady herself landed, ceasing her chant. Instead, she raised both hands as if playing an invisible piano, her fingers plucking at the air.

Ten ethereal energy threads manifested, extending and undulating around her—any specter within their reach became fair game.

“Heh heh… the Hell Death Banner’s specters… cannot be blocked.”

A voice oozed from the Soul Banner—smug, triumphant.

As it spoke, the second ghost head surged toward Ye Zhongming while a third materialized and expanded almost instantly.

Simultaneously below—

A miniature specter phased into a gene warrior’s body.

The robust fighter stiffened, his flesh graying and withering within seconds.

When the specter emerged from his back, laughing, it had grown larger—leaving behind only a desiccated husk that crumbled to dust.