Chapter 367 - 322: The Crow’s Mouth Is Indeed Tough

Demon Language.

’It’s him... It’s him...’

A two-headed, four-armed Destiny Weaver, resembling a humanoid crow, stood at the far end of the corridor, its body constantly radiating Spiritual Power.

In the narrow corridor, less than four meters wide, the blinding flashes of human firearms erupted continuously. The boarding party’s soldiers screamed in agony under the Doomsday Demons’ fierce assault, the defensive line constantly shrinking.

However, at this moment when victory was within reach, the Destiny Weaver’s keen Spiritual Perception detected a Knightly Aura from a distant hallway—an aura that struck terror into its heart.

’Vengeful Angels...’

After slowly uttering this obscure and esoteric title in the Demon Language, it abruptly spread its wings. A neon-like, blue-purple Spiritual Power erupted into a soul-shattering psychic shriek!

Every soldier in the boarding party who heard the shriek clutched their ears in agony and collapsed to their knees.

Even two of the slightly weaker members of the Red Flame Son, whose Dragon Descendant bloodline gave them naturally low Spiritual Resistance, dropped their weapons and fell to one knee under the crushing pressure of the shriek.

Fedor’s brow furrowed. Even he felt a wave of intense discomfort.

The Dragon Hunters were one of the Empire’s thirteen Main Battle Corps. These Imperial Knights possessed diluted blood from the Space Dragon Race and the Scaya Dragon Descendants. This heritage granted them a powerful Physique and Elemental Power far surpassing any Mortal, but it also made psychic attacks one of their few weaknesses.

Or rather, the impurity of their bloodline made it difficult for them, unlike other Imperial Knights, to use their Knight Power to receive the glorious protection of the Great Emperor and reduce the mental effects of a Demon’s Spiritual Power.

During the Old Empire Era, the Dragon Hunters rarely dealt with Demons. True to their Legion’s name, the Dragon Hunters had always been the vanguard in the Empire’s wars against the Space Dragon Race, tasked with guarding the frontier.

When it came to experience fighting Demons, the Red Flame Son—who had fought for years on the Eternal Battlefield without being wiped out—were definitely among the top ranks of the Dragon Hunter Legion.

When the psychic shriek subsided, Fedor was surprised to see the demons, which resembled humanoid crows, begin a rapid and unprompted retreat. One demon even froze in place, its Curved Saber poised to kill a soldier.

’If I’m not mistaken, is that fear?’

At that moment, it wasn’t just him. The soldiers defending the corridor also noticed that the Demons around them were acting as if they weren’t there, scrambling in a mad rush toward the other end of the corridor.

Seeing this, Fedor pulled his Dragon-Hunting Spear from the corpse of a Doomsday Demon and said in a low voice, "Sir."

Reinhardt’s voice was hoarse. Without pausing for a moment, he strode forward with his War Axe in hand. "They won’t escape."

By the time Reinhardt and the accompanying Red Flame Son had carved a path to the corner at the end of the corridor, a two-headed, four-armed Destiny Weaver, over three meters tall and holding a Scepter, had appeared before them!

Behind this Demon, a rift in the Real Cosmos connected the Demon Void Realm to the interior of Kosai Port. Hordes of Doomsday Demons streamed past it, pouring into the rift to flee the port.

And when this Destiny Weaver saw Reinhardt, a pressure erupted from its eyes, drowning the entire corridor in a neon-blue and purple sea of Spiritual Power!

Destiny Weaver.

Son of Intrigue.

Deceitful Crow.

The backbone of the Formless Divine Domain Destiny Weaver Legion. Their strength surpassed even that of the Elite Slaughter Demons from the Dark Abyss! Not only were they stronger, but they had also mastered Spiritual Power.

Furthermore, their cunning made them far more difficult to deal with than the Elite Slaughter Demons, who knew only the thrill of slaughter and battle.

Even Fedor, a master of Domain Power, could not withstand this Spiritual Pressure head-on. He stumbled back, groaning in agony.

The other members of the Red Flame Son fared even worse, blood gushing from their mouths and noses as they collapsed one after another.

This was Fedor’s first encounter with a powerful Demon from the Formless Divine Domain, and his pupils contracted. He had never encountered this level of Spiritual Pressure, not even on the Eternal Battlefield.

Or rather, the Demon Army of the Dark Abyss and their masters disdained using such flashy, gaudy powers.

Violence, brutality, and slaughter—those were the hallmarks of an Abyssal Demon.

If they had encountered the Destiny Weaver Legion, they would never have survived long enough for Reinhardt to arrive.

Kneeling on the ground, Fedor felt, for the first time, a threat of death so direct that he could find almost no way to counter it!

’Dammit...’

’How can it be this powerful?’

His eyes widened in fury. He let out a low growl and tried to tighten his grip on the Dragon-Hunting Spear, but the mental interference and suppression from the Spiritual Pressure made his right hand tremble uncontrollably.

Recalling the promise he had made to Urus before setting out, Fedor knew that even if he and all the Red Flame Son died here, he absolutely could not let anything happen to Reinhardt!

Yet, when he looked up, he saw Reinhardt standing tall and proud, facing the powerful Demon’s Spiritual Pressure head-on.

Empowered by his Knight Power, Reinhardt tore through the Demon’s defenses like a cannonball. His Black War Axe swung with unstoppable force, cleaving down heavily toward the distant Demon.

Seeing this, Fedor felt his heart almost stop.

He had only looked away for a second, but when he looked back up, Reinhardt was already in front of the Demon, War Axe in hand!

"Sir—! Dammit."

If anything happened to Reinhardt, he could not bear that responsibility!

Although their Great Tutor of Vengeful was incredibly brave, for his subordinates, having such a Battle Group Leader was a real headache.

Fedor struggled to his feet. As crimson flames formed an ornate suit of Flame Battle Armor over his body, his eyes transformed into the vertical pupils of the Space Dragon Race, filled with Elemental Power.

He took a step back and said in a low voice, "Starr, go find Urus immediately. Tell him what’s happened here. We need..."

Fedor didn’t finish his sentence. The Black War Axe collided with the Destiny Weaver’s Scepter. The aftershock from the clash of Extraordinary Power stirred the Spiritual Pressure, turning it into a chaotic, violent wind that spread out and completely drowned out his voice.

Afterward, a grating sound, like glass being scraped, suddenly echoed through the corridor.

"Heheheh... Consider this Orbital Port my welcoming gift to you. Next time we meet, you won’t be so lucky.

Vengeful Angels."

The moment the voice faded, the Destiny Weaver shrieked. Its body dissolved into a form of pure Spiritual Energy and, like waste flushed down a toilet into the sewer, shot—SWOOSH—into the spatial rift connected to the Demon Void Realm, vanishing without a trace along with the other Demons.

When the dust settled, Fedor, who had clearly heard the Demon’s parting words, frowned.

He hurried to Reinhardt’s side, scanned their surroundings, and after confirming there were no more enemies, said, "Sir, the Demons have retreated."

Reinhardt simply put away his War Axe and turned to head back the way he came. Under the gazes of the many boarding party soldiers and the Red Flame Son who had arrived as backup, he said coolly, "Not all Demons are like the madmen from the Dark Abyss, Fedor. That one was afraid of me."

Fedor had subconsciously assumed Reinhardt wouldn’t reply; he was already used to it.

After all, his superior was famously taciturn.

But when he unexpectedly heard this somewhat boastful, humorous response from Reinhardt, his following footsteps visibly faltered.

What neither he nor the other members of the Red Flame Son expected was...

After saying that, Reinhardt immediately added, "That crow’s mouth is certainly tough."