Reincarnation Of The Strongest Spirit Master-Chapter 1391: Sorry Pal, Your Journey Ends Here!

He didn’t look like the romanticised memory of a powerful master, nor the dashing figure she had once been blinded by. He looked like a creature that had crawled out of a swamp—a crooked, frog-like man with an arched back and skin that shimmered with an oily, unnatural grease.

His face was a map of deep, sagging wrinkles that should have belonged to a man centuries older, yet his eyes burned with a youthful, predatory hunger.

"And here I thought you were the one who spotted this weakness for him..." he hissed, his voice wet and raspy.

"You... you..." Becky’s throat seized. In her dreams, she had shouted at him, unleashed a torrent of curses and sophisticated techniques she’d spent months perfecting to express her agony. She had prepared a grand theatre of revenge.

But as her gaze locked with his, every bit of her bravado collapsed. It wasn’t love that paralysed her—it was a deeply rooted, ancestral fear that she had buried in the basement of her soul.

The trauma of his betrayal acted like a spiritual poison, numbing her limbs. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and she found herself crawling backwards across the monster’s back, desperate to put any distance between them.

The man tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of profound boredom. "I thought you came here for revenge, but... I’m disappointed." He turned his eyes away from her, looking toward the golden blur in the distance where the true battle raged. "It seems that the young-looking, useless master is the real problem, not you. If so, then you have no value or use to me anymore."

With a flick of his wrist, the fluid of the wave behind Becky stirred. A thick, viscous tongue of gore rose up, sharpening into a needle-like point. It arched in the air like the tail of a scorpion, poised to plunge through her spine and end her existence as an afterthought.

"As if I’d let you do any of that."

The voice was like a sudden sunrise. It wasn’t loud, but it possessed a melodic warmth that acted as a literal balm on Becky’s spirit. The moment the words hit her, the paralysing fear evaporated. The trembling stopped. The cold grip of her trauma was washed away by a sense of absolute, unwavering security.

"It’s you... How?!" The Ex’s eyes widened. He straightened his crooked back, his greasy skin tightening over his bones as he spotted William.

William was no longer a distant speck. He was a streak of light, closing the gap with terrifying velocity. Five hundred meters vanished in the blink of an eye. He was moving with a fluidity that shouldn’t have been possible within the formation, crossing the "water" in high-speed dashes that left the air screaming in his wake.

"Stay away from her, you lunatic!" William’s shout was a command that rattled the very foundations of the blood-serpent. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

The Ex’s face twisted into an evil, jagged grin. "That’s the man you picked after me? Not bad," he chuckled, the sound like gravel in a blender. "But not good enough to protect you from me. Come, let me remind you of the beautiful past we had together!"

Instead of the needle stabbing her, the fluid exploded outward, encircling Becky in a swirling, opaque prison of blood. Her face froze, her muscles stiffening as the pressure of the fluid acted as a sensory-deprivation tank, locking her in place. Yet, through the translucent walls of her cage, she could still see the world outside.

What she saw made her want to scream—not in terror, but in the purest, most triumphant joy she had ever known.

William didn’t just arrive; he manifested. One moment, he was a hundred meters away; the next, he was standing directly between Becky and the lunatic. But the true shock came from the monsters William had placed around her.

They hadn’t been idle. The moment the Ex revealed himself, the beasts lunged. With a synchronisation that spoke of William’s god-like control over his summons, they caught the dark master. One grabbed an arm, another a leg, a third clamped its jaws onto his shoulder. With a single, brutal tug, they ripped the man’s body apart.

The Ex’s limbs were torn from his torso in a spray of dark, foul-smelling ichor. But William didn’t relax. He knew this man was a parasite that didn’t die from simple dismemberment. The true killing blow was still to come.

Ignoring the mangled, screaming remains of his enemy, William turned his attention to the fluid prison holding Becky. He didn’t use a technique or a weapon.

He simply reached out and grabbed the swirling blood as if it were a physical entity—as if he were grabbing a man by the throat. With a grunt of exertion, he tore the liquid away from her and threw it into the distance, shattering the cage and leaving her free.

Contrary to everything Becky knew about the laws of spiritual energy, the fluid obeyed William’s command with the docility of a whipped cur. It didn’t splash or dissipate; it clumped together into a dense, vibrating sphere of crimson before hurtling through the air. With a sickening thud, it slammed into the mangled, dismembered remains of her Ex.

William stood back, clapping his hands together with a sharp, echoing crack, as if he were merely dusting off the grime from a morning’s chore. "Now you are whole again," he said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, resonant bass. "And now, you can really die."

"You... You... Get away from me!"

A miracle—or perhaps a nightmare—unfolded before Becky’s wide eyes. As the fluid merged with the torn flesh, the gore didn’t just coat the man; it knit him back together.

The sagging, greasy skin tightened and glowed with a sudden, artificial vitality. The arched back straightened, the skeletal frame filled with muscle, and the withered face smoothed out into the visage of a man in his prime. In seconds, the monstrous frog-creature had vanished, replaced by a handsome, healthy master.

This was the man Becky had once known. And this was the man William intended to erase from existence.

"Sorry, pal. Your journey ends here," William said.