Apocalypse Gachapon Chapter 1914: Did you have too much fun?

The dark silhouettes engulfed every spot from the modest hill down to the woods. Just the gaps amid each ring of these dark figures still held survivors on their feet.

No more clashes broke out among them; instead, they halted their strikes and braced themselves completely for the encircling dark silhouettes.

Attacks on these dark silhouettes hadn't been absent, yet everyone realized they did nothing. Be it blades or abilities infused with power, all simply slid straight through the dark silhouettes.

These figures appeared to possess merely a shape; the rest felt hollow, like mere illusions.

Still, surrounded by such a vast horde of dark silhouettes, even if they seemed harmless, no one could relax.

Why bother battling each other anymore? The real priority lay in figuring out how to handle the enclosing peril.

An overwhelming multitude of dark silhouettes filled the area, too numerous for anyone there to tally. Merely those perched at the hill's peak, such as White Robe and his companions, managed a vague estimate that these Ye Zhongming-like dark silhouettes surpassed five thousand in count.

This count already dwarfed the survivors' numbers by several folds.

Plenty of opportunistic survivors had started fleeing outward already. Passing through these dark silhouettes proved simple for them. They'd witnessed that fiendish mist colossus earlier; this seemed like its diminished counterpart, undoubtedly an ominous development.

Only those fixated on scoring points, or harboring alternative schemes, stayed put without budging.

This top Novice had stirred massive chaos earlier; now came this spectacle. Did it truly wield its former might, or was it merely a feint? With the Novice battlefield's conclusion drawing near, pulling off a deceptive ploy to fool the crowd wasn't out of the question.

Observers glued to the light screens felt a whirlwind of tangled emotions.

How had the once serene and predictable Novice battlefield, that steady and manipulable arena, spiraled into this madness?

In the end, nearly all harboring such doubts turned their stares toward that leading Novice.

This individual had unleashed a storm of transformations upon the Novice battlefield.

So, what role would these dark silhouettes play now?

The sole group buzzing with thrill was likely the Star-Eye Clan. Their spirits had ridden wild ups and downs like a thrill ride. At this juncture, they soared to another peak, perhaps the loftiest yet.

Under ten minutes remained before the Novice battlefield wrapped up. Should Ye Zhongming endure until then, the Star-Eye Clan would claim a historic triumph. Those points served not just for standings; they could swap for plenty of valuable rewards too.

The key question now hinged on whether Ye Zhongming and White Robe could persist until that instant.

Survival meant a radiant victory for the Star-Eye Clan. Death would plunge them into shadow.

All they could do was await triumph or despair, offering silent prayers in the meantime.

"Hey, is this gonna work? You screw up or something?"

White Robe murmured softly nearby.

From their perspective, Ye Zhongming ought to have morphed back into that dark mist behemoth by now, rampaging in all directions to ease the strain on everyone.

White Robe understood well that the dark behemoth likely couldn't sustain long, yet the current crisis left no room for restraint. They needed to unleash it, aiming to smash through the foes swiftly or punch an escape route, clinging on for those final minutes until the Novice battlefield closed.

Yet, viewed from any angle, things looked off.

These dark silhouettes swarmed in huge numbers and cut an imposing figure, but their true potency remained a mystery to all. Suppose Ye Zhongming had pushed too hard, shrinking the mighty behemoth into these puny shades with blows as feeble as gentle caresses? Then doom awaited the whole group.

Ye Zhongming offered no reply to White Robe. Not from unwillingness, but sheer inability.

He'd indeed botched things somewhat.

This hadn't been his plan at all.

Even White Robe and the rest grasped that Ye Zhongming's behemoth shift wouldn't endure much time. How could Ye Zhongming himself remain oblivious?

Its brevity implied a vulnerable window of minutes right before the Novice battlefield's finish. In that span, countless mishaps could unfold.

He refused to gamble his destiny on mere chance.

Thus, during the activation of this shift, Ye Zhongming struck upon an idea and tested a tweak.

For a cautious soul like Ye Zhongming, who always built in buffers, facing zero backups felt unusual. Credit went to the potent elixir from Yisewei. After gulping it down, not only did it wipe the Earth Spirit's cooldown clean, but it left extra reserves.

Likely due to Ye Zhongming's unique physique, the overflow issue Yisewei warned about never hit. Rather, the surplus morphed into vitality, saturating Ye Zhongming's frame and restoring the Cloud Peak King to peak condition with a boost.

With his form at prime readiness, Ye Zhongming triggered the power and sensed his command over the once-familiar technique grow smoother than ever. A repeat activation might stretch it by scores of seconds.

But that proved pointless. So Ye Zhongming sought fresh methods to extend the behemoth's duration.

No attempt might have been fine, but trying revealed his prime asset—mental strength—could shine brightest when his body peaked.

Joy surged through him. Ye Zhongming figured that, beyond endurance, channeling mental power would let the dark mist behemoth hold for a full ten minutes!

That would carry them straight to the Novice battlefield's close; perfection achieved.

Yet... plans sounded ideal. In execution, the power warped.

Those rings of dark silhouettes baffled others, and Ye Zhongming found them baffling too.

Was this perhaps an alternate expression of the enhanced Double Poison Shadow?

Ye Zhongming could only rationalize it thus.

Before long, the Cloud Peak King uncovered their nature.

He launched an assault.

Ye Zhongming, stagnant since invoking the technique, abruptly swung a fist ahead.

A direct, unadorned jab.

Power didn't count, not even if targeting empty space.

Yet every dark silhouette mirroring Ye Zhongming mirrored that jab in unison. Their collective fists turned downright fearsome.

Though lacking raw force, this strike bore unique traits. It first unleashed a piercing wail that stunned those weak in mind. Next, as neighboring rows of these dark silhouette rings swung, their limbs stretched, aligning perfectly so the fists from paired rows collided.

In essence, the initial ring paired with the second, the third with the fourth, onward, crafting sealed assault loops among them.

These were silhouettes blanketing the terrain from hill to woodland brink! Over five thousand strong! The overseers captured their synchronized strikes on record. Viewers via the light screens gaped in awe at that disciplined, icy maneuver.