Reincarnation Of The Strongest Spirit Master-Chapter 1393: Don’t Jinx Us!

Yet, despite the internal triumph, William saw no reason to pause. In his mind, this was a single step on a thousand-mile march. The obstacles the enemy had placed in his path—the rival guilds, the traitorous masters, the encroaching armies—were still there. They still wanted to burn his home and slaughter his people.

"The stage is clear," William muttered to himself, more than to her. "With enough pressure, the rest will crumble."

He didn’t wait for her approval. He turned and began to move, re-summoning his monsters into hunting formations. What followed was a week of unrelenting, systematic slaughter.

William moved through the region like a natural disaster. He didn’t hide, didn’t use mystery or shadows; he was a beacon of destruction. For days on end, his monsters were a constant presence in the forests and valleys, flushing out remnants of the enemy forces and showing no mercy to those who had come to claim his territory.

Becky followed him in a state of perpetual shock. The more she watched him, the more she realised that William was fundamentally different from any master she had ever encountered or heard of in legends.

Most masters, no matter how powerful, required cycles of meditation to stabilise their spiritual seas. They required sleep to prevent their minds from fracturing under the strain of high-level combat.

William did neither. He never paused. He never closed his eyes. The most he did was uncork a vial of high-grade potion, draining it in a single swallow to replenish his spirit power or seal a jagged wound before diving back into the fray.

The initial ambush escalated into a scorched-earth campaign. William moved from one hot zone to the next with the cold intent of a reaper.

He dismantled fortified encampments, broke siege lines, and personally hunted down commanding officers. By the end of the week, three major contested zones—areas that should have taken an army months to secure—had fallen under his absolute control.

At the end of the seventh day, after a brutal, day-long engagement that had seen the final hot zone cleared, Becky finally snapped. They stood amidst the smouldering ruins of a command post, the air thick with ash.

"Are you a monster disguised as a human, or what?" she demanded, her voice echoing off the scorched walls.

William blinked, turning to her with a look of genuine confusion. "What?"

"You keep fighting!" she cried, gesturing wildly to the carnage behind them. "You keep moving! You haven’t stopped to rest for a single hour! Are you a war golem? Are you even alive under that skin?"

William looked at her for a long moment. Then, the tension in his jaw finally eased. A faint, tired smile touched his lips—a rare glimpse of the human beneath the warrior.

"War golems are not fairytales, Becky," he said softly, his voice raspy from disuse. "Don’t jinx us by mentioning them. I’ve seen things that look like them, and they aren’t nearly as pretty as the stories."

He took a deep breath, the exhaustion he had been suppressing finally beginning to shadow his eyes. "But you’re right. We’ve pushed long enough. It’s time to go back, get some real rest, and see exactly what we’ve missed while we were out here playing in the dirt."

"As if we would find any other result but the devastation of the enemy forces," Becky said, rolling her eyes with a playful huff. She adjusted her travel pack, her movements finally regaining a sense of normalcy after a week of surviving on adrenaline.

"You killed the head of the snake, William. Only the headless body remains. One way or another, it has to fall. There is no other ending but this!"

"Don’t jinx us," William replied with a short, dry laugh. He began to set a brisk pace toward the horizon, his monsters loping alongside them like silent, loyal shadows.

"Now come. There is a portal hub in the town nearby. We’ll use it to head back to Lara’s city. I need a real bed, and you need to stop talking before you actually invite a disaster."

"Lead the way, warmonger," Becky teased.

The walk back was unusually lighthearted. The tension that had defined their relationship for weeks had evaporated, replaced by a strange, quiet camaraderie born of shared carnage.

They marched through a landscape that had been purged; the air was clear, and they didn’t spot a single enemy scout.

Instead, they passed groups of allied masters and Fox Guild members spreading out across the territory, securing the roads and setting up outposts. It felt like the victory was total.

But as they crested the final ridge overlooking the portal town, the atmosphere shifted.

The town wasn’t under attack, but it was far from peaceful. There was a frantic, disorganised energy buzzing through the streets. Masters were running back and forth between the central plaza and the communication spires, their faces etched with a confusion that bordered on panic.

"What? Is there something wrong with the portal?!" William demanded the moment they reached the town square. His voice carried like a crack of thunder, bringing the chaotic movement around them to a grinding halt.

He marched toward the portal platform, his eyes narrowing as he saw the dormant stone arches. "How did this happen? Did someone meddle with the foundation? Is there a saboteur?"

The first thought in William’s mind was a tactical strike. He had discussed the vulnerability of the portal network during the initial war council before they had departed. If the enemy had managed to slip a team behind their lines to sever their transit lines, it meant the war was far more sophisticated than he’d credited.

"No, sir."

A middle-aged master stepped forward, his knees visibly shaking as he stood before William. To this man, William wasn’t just a guild leader; he was the legendary figure who had just single-handedly cleared three hot zones in a week.

He looked like he was facing a god of death, and he was terrified that the news he carried would be his death warrant.