The Corruption Dragon God: Lust System Chapter 415 DIE!

Zharuk clenched the pendant with a crushing force, causing a brilliant golden radiance to instantly swallow his massive frame.

In this era, any divine relic originating from Auranys would typically view orcs as creatures of darkness, detonating upon contact with them; this was an enchantment placed upon such items following a catastrophic war countless millennia ago.

The fact that this particular artifact did not immediately obliterate Zharuk proved that the object was at least a hundred thousand years old.

Floating in mid-air, Qingyi retreated a single step, observing as the golden glow permeated the orc’s entire being.

The orc’s veins began to shimmer, his crimson eyes were flooded with gold, and even the dark red embers dancing around his axe underwent a transformation.

The situation had become perilous.

"You... weakling... DIE!" Zharuk bellowed, swinging his axe with every ounce of his strength.

This assault finally forced a serious expression from Qingyi. Black scales manifested across his skin as he invoked the first form of the Storm Monarch Sword Art.

An enormous, translucent blade tip materialized at the edge of the Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword, towering nearly five meters above Qingyi, while violent bolts of lightning consumed the surrounding space.

With only a heartbeat to prepare, he launched his counterattack. His expression held more fascination than dread as the Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword clashed directly with Zharuk’s Golden Flame Axe.

For a split second, time itself seemed to stand still.

From the battlefield below, the True Immortal engaged in slaughtering the orc legions stole a glance upward, only to be instantly blinded by a flash of light that split the sky between the orc’s gold and Qingyi’s lightning.

The deadlock lasted but a moment before both techniques shattered against one another. The energy converged at the center before erupting outward in all directions, sending a torrent of lightning and fire cascading toward the armies below.

"Fall back, now!" the general screamed at the royal battalions. Locked in combat with the orcs, the soldiers struggled to respond in time.

Luckily, they retreated far enough that the aftermath of the collision struck only the orcs, whose fighting capabilities were already suppressed by Qingyi’s lineage projection.

A storm of lightning and fire rained down into the heart of the enemy ranks and detonated, carving a scorched trench into the earth and vaporizing hundreds of orcs in an instant.

Qingyi clenched his teeth, a thin line of blood escaping his lips as he threw a punch. His fist bypassed Zharuk’s weapon and connected squarely with the orc's hideous face.

A grunt of agony broke from the Orc Warlord as his body was sent hurtling backward like a projectile from a cannon.

The force of Qingyi’s strike generated a massive shockwave, followed by a second boom as Zharuk’s body shattered the sound barrier.

Belgrath’s officers, who were attempting to organize their troops for the next phase of the battle, watched in pure horror as a ton of raw muscle streaked toward them.

They scrambled to find cover, but their efforts were futile; the orc leader’s body slammed into the dense military columns with a catastrophic impact.

He was driven dozens of meters into the dirt, kicking up a massive dust cloud. Soldiers hundreds of meters away were tossed into the air as the ground beneath them disintegrated into powder.

"Ugh... Filthy weakling... Zharuk will..." Before he could finish his threat, a spear of fire slammed into his chest, the heavy impact dazing him once more.

As he struggled to rise, a second spear struck, followed by a third, fourth, and fifth.

By the time the sixth spear hit, Zharuk’s body was being driven deeper into the earth, sinking dozens of meters with every consecutive strike. The stench of charred, rotting meat wafted from the flaming crater.

Qingyi showed no signs of stopping. He raised his palm, summoning the ninth and concluding spear of the Art of the Nine Spears of Celestial Fire, his form draped in magnificent, scorching flames.

He paused for a brief second of contemplation before releasing the final attack.

As the spear left his hand, the recoil threw his body backward, a shockwave rippling from his fingertips with a thunderous roar.

The fire trailed the spear like the wings of a phoenix as it descended upon the crater.

Qingyi’s robes snapped in the wind. His black hair—which the girls in the World of Mind had so carefully styled before his departure—broke free, whipping wildly as a blast of searing air hit his face.

The radiance of the explosion was more blinding than the sun itself.

Qingyi watched with a cold gaze as the heat dissipated and the dark smoke slowly cleared, exposing what remained of Zharuk.

He was in a horrific state, yet to Qingyi’s amazement, the orc was still breathing.

His skeleton was exposed in places and his lungs were visible, gasping for air; his internal organs had failed and his skin was entirely carbonized.

Nevertheless, he persisted, whispering the names of strange entities while his golden eyes began to burn with a profound darkness.

Qingyi was aware of this phenomenon; the orcs worshipped their own deities.

Though their names were obscure to most, Qingyi knew of their power and that they were a primary source of the orcs' ferocity.

Given enough time, Zharuk might have regenerated with even greater strength to challenge Qingyi again.

Regrettably for the orc, the handsome youth had already decided how this duel would end.

Zharuk’s previous strike had inflicted some internal injuries, but the Seed of Life had already mended them.

What actually concerned him was that his soldiers were still struggling against the remaining orcs.

Even though Qingyi had only led them for a short time, they were his subordinates and held him in high esteem.

With a quiet sigh, Qingyi stepped onto Zharuk’s head and crushed it. He funneled lightning through his foot to ensure the orc’s brain and internal systems were utterly obliterated, reducing the warlord to nothing but a bloody mess.

Qingyi simply shook his head at the sight.

He raised a hand, and the only intact item left—the talisman Zharuk had used to bolster his power—flew into his palm. Just as Qingyi began to examine it, an object pierced the air, striking him from behind and passing straight through his chest.

It was a spear, exceptionally fast and eerily silent, imbued with the unmistakable power of a True Immortal.

"Uh... what a curious little development." Qingyi smiled, turning around to face the source.