The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2332 The Power of the Ancient One

"ARRGGHHH!"

A hellish shriek erupted from the confines of the golden shackle as Paramount struggled to break free. Molten crimson light pulsed through the veins of the four-armed Neo-Angel’s lithic frame, his muscular form expanding while he resisted the immense weight crushing him.

The Demon King’s gaze flickered with a brief moment of astonishment as he observed the raw power displayed by the four-armed Neo-Angel.

"Not bad," the Demon King remarked with composure. "Your Cultivation and natural gifts are remarkable. It is a pity you do not serve me!"

Following his words, he spread his palm and transitioned his arms into a peculiar stance, one that mirrored the shape of infinity. Suddenly, a deluge of golden palms poured from the heavens, striking Paramount’s frame with relentless intensity. Every blow was infused with divine will, hammering the Neo-Angel downward and burying him deeper into the crust of the world.

The earth wailed under the burden, fracturing as the bombardment grew more fierce. Before long, the distinct cracking of shattering bones could be heard.

"Neo-Angel Draconic Breath!"

Just as the four-armed Neo-Angel’s demise seemed certain, a booming roar shook the horizon. Zylax unhinged his massive jaws, the luminous veins along his spine glowing brightly as highly condensed lightning pooled in his throat. With a blinding flash, a stream of pressurized draconic lightning surged forward, a beam of such density it threatened to pierce through a star.

The Demon King’s focus shifted instantly, forced to pivot his Qi to defend himself.

The assault on Paramount halted as golden hands manifested around the Demon King, weaving into a defensive cocoon. The draconic breath collided with the barrier, knocking the cocoon backward through the sky before finally sending it crashing into the distance.

For a heartbeat, the golden shield held firm.

Then, it dissolved.

The Demon King stepped out entirely unscathed, his demeanor steady and unruffled. Nevertheless, a hint of wonder remained in his eyes.

His barrage of golden palms had failed to execute the four-armed Neo-Angel, and the sheer momentum of the lightning breath had actually managed to repel him.

It was evident that although the Demon King outclassed the Neo-Angels in every category, wiping out the pair would be no simple task.

Zylax and Paramount glared at him, their eyes burning with murderous intent and fury, their very souls ignited by a fierce will to win. Outlasting the initial exchange had only strengthened their resolve.

A slow grin touched the Demon King’s lips as his golden aura erupted, becoming thicker and more brilliant until it shrouded the firmament.

"Let’s do this," he declared.

In a flash, the figure of an old man descended from above—while a titanic dragon and a four-armed giant charged at him from both sides.

Elsewhere within the inner sanctum of Origin Island, a solitary man stood wrapped in a cloak of shadows.

His eyes shone with a sharp, ivory radiance as he observed the three individuals blocking his path.

Two among them were Middle Alpha-Omega Overgods.

One was a massive, terrifying combatant outfitted in dark, intricate armor that seemed forged from steel and solidified gloom. A purple aura swirled around him like sentient mist, leaking from his limbs as he clutched a wicked, bladed weapon in each hand.

The second warrior possessed wide, ghostly wings. His plate armor was a blend of forged metal and esoteric mechanics, battered and dented from endless warfare. A shredded cloak fluttered behind him, and he held a colossal scythe that radiated enough power to rot the fabric of space itself.

The third appeared the most humanoid.

He rested a gargantuan blade casually against his shoulder. His jagged hair and visor-like goggles gave him the look of a sharp, seasoned veteran. He was the most formidable of the group—a Late Alpha-Omega Overgod.

They were three True Depravitas.

A lesser cultivator would have been frozen by terror at such a sight. However, the shadowed man only offered a faint smile.

The three True Depravitas traded grave looks before nodding in silent agreement.

In an instant, they vanished from sight.

They materialized directly in front of the shadowed figure, their weapons cutting through the air from every angle. Their strikes were backed by more than just brute strength; they carried Depravita Power—an energy capable of rotting the soul and psyche of any master in a heartbeat.

But as their blades were about to connect, a sudden realization hit them.

Their weapons had struck an invisible force.

An unseen wall blocked their path, halting their momentum with absolute certainty.

In the following second, the shadowed figure lifted his right hand.

A tremor rippled out—not through the atmosphere, but through the very fabric of reality. It surged outward, warping the fundamental laws of the world and violently rejecting anything in its way.

The three True Depravitas were sent flying, their bodies tossed into the far distance.

They slammed hard into the ground, deep gashes opening across their bodies. Despite the severity, their Depravita Auras flared, knitting their flesh back together at high speed.

Even so, their expressions turned grim.

They had felt the weight of their opponent's strength—and it was beyond anything they had ever encountered.

The human True Depravita adjusted his stance, his gaze narrowing.

"So this is the Power of Negation belonging to the Ancient One," he muttered slowly. "The ability to nullify reality itself. You cancel our strikes before they reach you, force the dimensions to reset, and then deny our very existence—compelling the world to cast us out."

Such a feat contradicted the natural order of the universe. It was the type of dominion held only by those who had caught a glimpse of the Fourth Realm.

The Ancient One looked toward the human True Depravita and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

"It is no wonder that old monster favors you," he said evenly. "Your intuition and insight are impressive, Roku." The Ancient One’s eyes grew icy as he made a sharp gesture.

"However," he added, "that only increases my desire to end you." The three True Depravitas inhaled deeply, tightening their grip on their hilts. They shared one final look, then nodded and advanced as one.

It mattered not that their foe was the Ancient One.

Even if victory was impossible—

They would fight to the end.