Reincarnation Of The Strongest Spirit Master-Chapter 1390: Breaking the Formation!

William’s voice cut through the mental static of Becky’s panic like a cold blade. Using spirit telepathy, he projected a sense of absolute, glacial calm, even as the world around them disintegrated into a fever dream of blood and shadow.

Since the moment the sky had bruised into darkness, and the river had begun its grotesque ascent, Becky had been a fountain of frantic energy.

Her voice had rattled in William’s mind incessantly—first pleading for a retreat, then screaming for his monsters to form a perimeter around her. When William finally diverted a small pack of his beasts to her side, she immediately tried to use them as an escort to flee the area entirely.

But William had planned for her fear. One of the larger, more obsidian-skinned monsters had surged forward, not to guard her, but to pin her. It had snatched her up with a strength that brooked no argument, throwing her across its broad, muscled back.

No matter how much she struggled, cursed, or attempted to take flight using her own spiritual arts, the creature’s massive claws would gently but firmly snag her, hauling her back into place like a rebellious child.

William knew he had secured his bait. Now, it was time to find the fisherman.

Logic dictated that the master of such a world-ending formation would be miles away, perched on a safe ridge or hovering at the very edge of the disaster’s reach.

But William carried the scars of a past life—bitter, jagged memories bought with the lives of brothers-in-arms. He knew this enemy’s signature style. The "bastard" wasn’t at the edge. He was standing in the dead centre of the cataclysm, barely dozens of meters away, hidden by the very chaos he had unleashed.

It was a brilliant, counter-intuitive move. By placing himself at the focal point, he controlled the formation with a precision no remote master could match. William just needed to look past the illusion to find the heart of the rot.

The incoming tsunami was a wall of absolute filth, a vertical sea of iron-scented gore and acidic pus that threatened to dissolve anything it touched. Most masters would have burned every drop of their spiritual essence just to create a shield.

William didn’t even raise a hand. He stood like a monolith of stone, his eyes fixed forward as the wave crested, broke, and slammed into him with the force of a falling mountain.

The impact was deafening. Tons of disgusting, viscous fluid swept over him, submerging him completely.

"How..."

Through the roar of the rushing liquid, William heard the voice. It wasn’t booming anymore; it was close, whispered directly into the medium of the fluid, vibrating with a shock that bordered on horror. "How could you possibly know..."

"Too late, asshole!"

William didn’t wait for the villain to finish his epiphany. The moment the fluid closed over his head, he exploded into motion.

To an outside observer, it should have been impossible. A man submerged in such a dense, churning weight should have been crushed or, at the very least, forced to swim for his life.

Instead, William moved as if he were running across an open plain. He didn’t just move; he dashed. His spiritual tails began to whip behind him, glowing with a fierce, gathering light as they accumulated the kinetic energy of the "water" for a counter-strike.

Further back, Becky watched the scene with wide, disbelieving eyes. From her vantage point on the monster’s back, she saw the wave consume William.

She had expected to see him swept away, his flesh stripped from his bones by the acidic nature of the blood-river. Instead, she saw his silhouette blur beneath the surface. He wasn’t struggling against a current; he was sprinting through it with a speed that defied the laws of physics.

He is... under that water, and yet it feels like... as if he were standing on solid ground... But how?!! She tried to force her panicked mind to analyse the spiritual flow until she heard her ex-lover’s choked exclamation of terror. Even through her hatred, she knew the man’s capabilities. She knew his arrogance. To hear him sound so utterly vulnerable—so terrified of William’s mere movement—was the final tether she needed to find her own courage.

She stopped fighting the monster holding her. If William knew the path, she would follow it, even if it looked like certain death. She braced herself, leaning into the creature’s matted fur as the secondary surge of the wave roared toward her.

The water crashed over her face. It submerged her body in a world of red. She shut her eyes, waiting for the burn of acid or the crushing weight of the deep.

It never came.

The moment she was fully engulfed, her lungs didn’t fill with fluid. Instead, a cool, crisp sensation rushed into her senses. Her eyes snapped open.

"This... It’s air, not water!"

The realisation hit her like a thunderbolt. Her brilliant mind began to stitch the fragments together, linking the visual horror of the wave to the physical reality of the sensation.

The entire "Blood Tsunami" was a master-class illusion—a hollow shell of spiritual pressure that used the victim’s own fear to paralyse them so the central formation could finish them off.

The way out wasn’t to run from the wave, but to dive into it. It was the only weak point, a hidden vacuum of safety at the centre of the storm.

Impressive! she thought, a surge of adrenaline finally replacing her fear. But William... how in the world did he see through a weakness hidden that deeply?

"That’s exactly what I needed to know."

The voice didn’t come from the distance; it slithered out of the red mist mere meters from Becky’s ear. She let out a sharp, panicked cry, her body jerking violently as she spun around. There, standing on the surface of the "water" as if it were a solid stage, was the man she hated more than death itself.

Her Ex.