God-Tier Fishing System Chapter 705

The window of opportunity will last for another two or three years; there is still enough time before it actually opens.

Regardless, aimless wandering is dull. I might as well find some amusement right here, the young man remarked, interrupting the pair behind him.

Remaining silent, the two bodyguards—both Perfect Supremes—simply stood behind their master.

Tiberan, the time is nearly up. Only five breaths remain, said Glacien, holding up his hand to begin the count.

Four.

Three.

Two.

...

Young Master Ethan, you are going to owe me a massive favor for what I am about to do. As he spoke, the young man pulled back his hood to reveal a handsome face, while a golden longsword materialized in his grip, primed for combat.

He was the very individual Ethan had befriended at the Blood Tavern in Noble Sun City: Zeon, the Ninth Prince of the Great Verdant Lantern Empire.

Glacien continued his countdown, his expression devoid of emotion. Finally, his voice delivered the last word.

One.

With a casual wave of his hand, he issued the order like a cold-blooded executioner.

Boom.

A rapid succession of explosions crackled through the air.

All eight Perfect Supremes following Glacien mobilized their auras at once, sending terrifying ripples of divine power surging outward.

Instantly, the atmosphere shifted, and the ground began to tremble. Above, the night sky shattered into runic debris, which drifted slowly toward the earth. The resulting shockwaves tore through the fabric of space itself, leaving it in jagged fragments. Multicolored light flooded the heavens, entirely obscuring the night.

Spectators watching from dozens of miles away felt suffocated by the sheer divine pressure.

Panicked, they retreated, desperately pouring Qi into their limbs or activating defensive spiritual treasures to withstand the encroaching waves of force.

Everyone, defend to the death. Do not take a step back, commanded Tiberan.

His followers nodded, their faces marked with fierce determination, and roared in reply with thunderous intensity.

We will not retreat. To the death!

Although they were outnumbered and outmatched by the Moonfall Clan, their spirit was ferociously intense, rivaling their opponents in every regard.

Tiberan, I offered you a chance. You have only yourself to blame for this ruthlessness, said Glacien coldly. If you must seek someone to blame, look at your own stubbornness, your inability to read the situation, and your insistence on dragging your entire Sect to the grave.

Before the final syllable left his lips, Wilford initiated the assault. The seven other Elders joined him in a fierce charge toward Tiberan’s formation.

I will handle Wilford, Helena, and Jason, the Moonfall Clan's Chief Commander. The rest of you must fend for yourselves, Tiberan gritted out as Wilford neared.

Though also a Perfect Supreme, his time in this realm had been brief. Compared to the veteran Wilford, his combat power was undeniably lacking. Regardless, there was no room for hesitation now. As the Clan Head, he had to confront the enemy directly, even if victory seemed impossible.

Ancestral Power, awaken. Ancestral Pattern, materialize.

Bloodline power, fully unleashed.

Burn, my Blood Essence.

Working through hand seals at a breakneck pace, Tiberan fueled his aura to new heights. Facing three Perfect Supremes, he knew he couldn't afford to hold anything back. He went all-out from the start to push his limits, hoping to hold them off for just a little longer.

Tiberan, since you insist on opposing us, be prepared to forfeit your life to this old man, Wilford sneered. He pushed his divine power to its peak, and icy intent chilled the air as a razor-sharp ice awl formed in his palm. Since the Seventh Elder’s demise, his rage had been boiling, and with the Star of Calamity nowhere to be found, he had finally found a target to vent his fury. He would crush the Riverborn Clan to soothe his irritation.

Don't be so arrogant, Wilford, Tiberan countered. The Moonfall Clan might be powerful, but the Riverborn Clan isn't easy to crush. Today, I, Tiberan, will make you pay dearly for your hubris.

An azure halberd appeared in his hands, instantly wreathed in surging lightning.

Rumble.

Heavenly thunder descended from the clouds to strike the weapon. It was a potent instrument—a peak Holy Grade Spiritual Weapon. Given its construction and the raw power of the lightning coursing through it, the weapon carried the faint aura of a true Divine Artifact.

A peak Holy Grade Spiritual Weapon? The Heavenly Thunder Battle Halberd. I heard it was inscribed with several powerful runes and spirit-refined six times, a spectator murmured. If a master artificer were to reforge it, it might actually evolve into a Divine Artifact. With that weapon as an anchor, you might actually hold us at bay—though, unfortunately, such an opportunity will never arrive.

Wilford sneered, lunging forward with his chilled ice awl and thrusting it toward Tiberan’s throat.

Come and meet your fate. I want to test the true limits of your Moonfall Clan. Did you truly think my Riverborn Clan was defenseless? Tiberan roared, swinging his halberd in a wide arc. His burning blood essence created a crimson mist as the lightning deeped in intensity.

Crackle.

The ear-piercing scream of electric arcs tore the air. Huge, crescent-shaped waves of lightning intent erupted, engulfing Wilford, Helena, and Jason.

Whoosh.

From the collision of ice and lightning, clouds of smoke billowed out, within which three figures emerged unscathed.

Hehe, mildly interesting. Tiberan, I acknowledge your strength for now; you haven't disappointed us, Wilford chuckled.

This is getting fun, added Jason, a mocking grin widening as he crossed his arms. To him, Tiberan was merely prey—a meal served on a platter. They had no reason to fear intervention from other factions, not while an Emperor Realm expert was backing their every move.