Chapter 1118 354: Leaving the Netherworld, Heading to Ra's Territory

The air in the coliseum seemed to freeze for a moment.

Ian stood on the scorched earth, his silver-white magic armor still clinging to him, gripping the magic wand firmly in hand, his gaze calm and resolute. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat normal, as if he hadn't just undergone a duel against a divine spirit, but a mere magic experiment.

Opposite him, Anubis remained standing, under the golden jackal mask, those deep eyes quietly watching him.

The trial had ended.

Ian had won.

He had won not with magic, not with strength, but with willpower, wisdom, and a thorough challenge to the rules, triumphing over the God of Death in this duel.

But just as Anubis was about to turn and leave, to hand the Nether River Oar to Ian, Ian suddenly spoke.

"Anubis."

His voice was not loud, yet carried an odd calmness and composure.

"I must confess something."

Anubis stopped in his tracks, did not turn around, but those golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"My power... is not a paradox."

Ian slowly raised his hand, looking at his palm, with a hint of self-mocking smile in his tone.

"It is merely the power I've plundered."

"The paradox is just the power I once plundered, I am not inherently powerful, I simply... never refuse anything that makes me stronger."

This was Ian's philosophy of cultivation.

He paused, looked directly at Anubis's back, "I don't deny that I am a plunderer. I am just... a plunderer who knows what he is doing."

Ian mainly saw that the other party's attitude was not bad, so he appeared more sincere, he was such a person who, when met with sincerity, would also become sincere Ian.

The air seemed to solidify at that moment, Anubis did not respond immediately, but slowly turned around, those golden divine eyes staring fixedly at Ian.

Anubis's golden pupils contracted sharply, the dim light of the Netherworld casting varied shadows on his sharp jackal features, making the astonishment on his divine face even more stark.

It seemed he saw some familiar shadow in Ian's words. Perhaps it was because no past challenger had ever admitted their essence so candidly.

He only nodded slowly, his golden cloak fluttering slightly in the invisible breeze.

"Plunder?" The ancient Egyptian God of Death's voice remained calm, but the undertone carried a barely detectable tremor, his gaze shifting dramatically, wondering what came to his mind.

"You say the Paradox Divine Authority is..."

Anubis's voice carried a few inexplicable nuances.

"Stolen." Ian twirled the magic wand in his hand, mischief flickering in his eyes, "Taken from a so-called new god, a legendary wizard."

Honest Ian showed his honesty.

"That guy once seemed quite respectable, then turned himself into a monster." He intentionally spoke of shocking facts in an understatement.

He was referring to the events that once happened in Pompeii. The wind in the Netherworld suddenly stilled. The spectral images of the undead warriors in the audience seats began flickering unstably, a few even disintegrating into particles of light—caused by Anubis's shaken mind unsettling the Divine Domain. The God of Death's slender fingers unconsciously rubbed the holy script inscriptions on the surface of the scepter.

His knuckles slightly whitened.

As if he had verified some speculation.

But ultimately, he still didn't say anything.

Ian watched the other's reaction with interest. In the instant before the God of Death's voice faded, he suddenly felt a gaze transcending time and space— as if countless eyes simultaneously opened from the depths of the Netherworld, then quickly closed. Anubis clearly felt it too, abruptly raising his gaze to the end of the Nether River, a glimmer of... was it vigilance?

Or fear?

"Take it."

"The Nether River Oar."

Anubis said in a low voice.

"It bears the sins of billions of souls."

He handed over the oar, his movements slow and solemn, as if delivering an artifact beyond mortal possession. Indeed, it was not an ordinary object, crafted entirely from obsidian and gold, with ancient hieroglyphs etched across its surface, each rune seemingly whispering spells of death. A silver-white chain coiled around the oar's handle,

as if connecting to the far shore of the Nether River.

As the obsidian carved oar was tossed over, a ghostly blue Nether flame flickered across its surface. The moment Ian reached out to catch it, a bone-chilling cold swept through his body instantaneously.

He could feel it.

It wasn't ordinary cold, but the wailing of souls, the curses and resentment left by billions of the Dead drifting in the Nether River, the shrieks of countless souls pouring directly into his mind.

He closed his eyes, sensing the power of the oar.

The weeping of drowned infants, the roars of battlefield spirits, the rebuttals of traitors, the prayers of martyrs... ages of sin turned into black thorns, wildly creeping along his arm. But just as the thorns were about to pierce his heart, Ian's tempered will surged, the Light of the Soul burst forth, consuming all negative emotions.

"They... cannot affect me." Ian was only briefly influenced for a moment, he opened his eyes, his tone calm, yet exuding a suffocating confidence.

Just as Anubis said, a sufficiently powerful wizard could wield this divine artifact.

"Thank you." Ian suddenly became polite, even giving a standard mage salute, after all, 'extend a gracious hand to those who offer you politeness', "Your trial was quite enlightening."