Reincarnation Of The Strongest Spirit Master-Chapter 1451: Flying Spears!

"They introduced modifications to my design... interesting!" William’s eyes shone with a sudden, bright light. A look of genuine ease and satisfaction replaced his battle-hardened scowl.

To see his masters and allies not only follow his lead but innovate upon his foundations was the highest form of flattery.

"What modifications? And what is so special about those spears?!" Becky demanded. She was practically vibrating with impatience, the academic in her screaming for an explanation. She grabbed William’s arm, her eyes wide with a demand for answers.

But William, as was his custom, offered her nothing but a cryptic shrug before turning his blade back toward the nearest bear, leaving her to stew in her own curiosity.

"Now!"

Berry’s shout was the signal. At her command, the first row of masters stepped to the edge of the trench. With a synchronised motion, they plunged the heads of their spears into the toxic, glowing sludge of the Yellow River. The metal hissed as it absorbed the corruption, the tips of the weapons turning a sickly, vibrant shade of amber.

They whirled around, muscles coiling like springs.

"Release!"

The spears were launched in a coordinated volley, streaking across the sky like falling stars. Even with five hundred masters throwing simultaneously, there was no overlap.

They targeted specific, high-density clusters of bears situated deep within the enemy ranks. It was clear they had practised this formation for countless hours; they moved with the singular mind of a hive.

The spears found their marks.

Roar! Roar! Roar!

The moment the spears struck their marks, a cacophony of guttural roars tore through the air. What followed was a spectacle that defied every established rule of monster behaviour.

As if a grand, world-altering spell had been cast simultaneously over the entire horizon, the bears halted their relentless assault on the group of masters. In an eerie, unified motion, the sea of scarlet fur turned inward.

Thousands of monsters, previously focused on the humans, launched themselves with cannibalistic ferocity at the five hundred bears that had been pierced by the spears.

It was a breathtaking sight—a miracle of tactical manipulation that none of the gathered faction leaders had ever dared to imagine.

Even Becky, whose experience spanned realms, found her hands trembling. She stopped her own defense, standing in a daze as she watched the monster tide consume itself in a frenzied, self-destructive whirlpool of blood and rage.

"You... you found a way to soak those spears in the Yellow River’s essence and directed the bears to mark their own kind as targets!" She gasped, her voice barely a whisper against the roar of the melee.

Unlike the other masters, Becky’s high-level background allowed her to leap to the correct conclusion in mere seconds. She understood the primal, chemical attraction the bears had to the river. Yet, even as her mind processed the trick, she couldn’t fathom the execution.

According to everything she knew, the waters of the Yellow River were intangible—a corruptive energy that defied collection or containment by any standard vessel. William had managed the unthinkable; he had bridged the gap between raw energy and physical weaponry, turning a natural disaster into a targeted strike.

"I will tell you later," William said, his eyes never leaving the battlefield. He felt the weight of her gaze but remained an immovable pillar of calm. "Once you are ready to perform the specific task I have in mind for you, I’ll teach you this secret—along with many other ’cool tricks’ that would make your Upper Realm masters weep with envy."

Becky remained silent, but her internal world was in turmoil. At that moment, she discarded every shred of pride, every doubt, and every lingering reservation she held about serving a master from a lower realm. A single, singular thought burned in her spirit like a fever: I need to know what this task is. I will do whatever it takes to prove my worth to him.

The other masters standing around Berry’s group were equally stunned, but unlike Becky, they lacked the theoretical framework to understand the "why." To them, it looked like divine intervention.

They saw the Long Clan and the Academy disciples performing a ritual with metal and mud that turned the heralds of the apocalypse against one another. The mystery of it stood tall and mighty before their minds, a wall of knowledge they couldn’t yet scale.

"Again!" Berry’s command echoed across the trench.

The majority of the masters repeated the soak-and-throw sequence, but a specialized subgroup of fifty disciples moved differently. They didn’t reach for a second spear. Instead, they extended their hands toward the battlefield, their fingers twitching as if they were plucking invisible strings in the air.

With a series of sharp, metallic whistles, the spears they had already thrown suddenly tore themselves free from the carcasses of their targets.

They didn’t fall to the ground; they hovered, vibrating with a high-pitched hum, before soaring back into the sky. These were the modified flying spears—the masterpiece of the Academy’s Forging Department head, Ellina.

Ellina stood among the ranks, watching the soaring weapons with a look of profound triumph. This was the pinnacle of her career, the ultimate validation of her craft. Yet, she wasn’t blinded by arrogance. She knew with absolute clarity that every ounce of this success was a gift from William.

She remembered the day he had walked into her department—a "good-for-nothing" porter looking to forge a simple tool. Had she not followed her curiosity, had she not humbled herself to learn from his mysterious techniques, she would still be forging standard, stagnant blades.

William had only taught her the basics of forging flying knives, but she had taken that seed and nourished it with years of diligent, sleepless nights. She had expanded his logic, scaling it up from small blades to these massive, battlefield-altering spears.

Watching the fifty masters direct the spears through the air, turning them into a perpetual bombardment of Yellow River-soaked death, William felt a rare spark of pride. He hadn’t expected the Academy’s smiths to take his initial teachings and evolve them so effectively.