CHAPTER 412: CHAPTER 400 FULFILLING FILIAL DUTIES

Nezha played around with Poseidon for a while, feeling somewhat disappointed not to see the legendary Sea God Thirteen Forms. Deciding to stop wasting time, his fist erupted in crimson energy like raging flames that lit up the surrounding seawater.

The flow of water, under the influence of his domain, began to break free from Poseidon’s control as the Sea God. At times, it would explode outward with the force of Nezha’s punches, only to be inexplicably dragged back by some unseen gravitational pull.

Centered around Nezha’s body, a new vortex formed. Poseidon clung desperately to his Trident in defense, his disbelief undeniable: how could he, a Sea God, lose control over the ocean’s waters?

Each blow from Nezha’s fist, empowered by the surging tide, reverberated with an unsettling residual force after landing.

He wanted to roar at Nezha, proclaiming, "I am the Sea God!"

But the aching numbness in his arms betrayed him. He was nearing defeat, with the Golden Trident bearing countless overlapping fist imprints and already bending irregularly under the strain.

Poseidon desperately wanted to surrender, but as the Sea God, one of the Twelve Main Gods and the older brother of God King Zeus, his pride would not allow it. Yet defeat was inevitable—it was only a matter of time.

Nezha, seeing Poseidon’s skills exhausted, struck him down with just three punches.

Before fighting Ares, battling Poseidon might have taken some effort, but now Nezha could only think, "Brother, you’re just not up to par."

Feeling the gathering spirituality and the gaze of the World Will once again, Nezha finally sensed that the end of this examination was near.

"Who’s next?"

Zeus’s face turned grim, and the gods present lost the arrogance they previously displayed. Poseidon, as Zeus’s brother and one of the top four in combat strength among the Twelve Main Gods, wasn’t even a match for Hercules now. Sending anyone else would surely be a futile sacrifice.

Venus, the Beauty God, held her spear, drenched in sweat from exhaustion, a mix of fear and anticipation filling her heart. The stronger Hercules became, the more enamored she felt. After all, she didn’t believe there existed a man alive who could resist the allure of beauty!

Most of the gods turned their attention toward Athena. Although she was known as the Peace and Wisdom Goddess, Athena’s fighting prowess certainly rivaled, if not surpassed, Poseidon’s.

Athena’s gaze was complex at this moment. She recalled Hercules’s words from long ago: "What is your wish?" For even gods had things they could not achieve, such as rescuing her mother.

Her mother, Metis, the original Wisdom Goddess, had been devoured by God King Zeus while pregnant due to a prophecy. The official phrasing was that Metis provided Zeus with wisdom; the harsh reality was she was eternally imprisoned within Zeus’s body.

Athena had tirelessly trained and improved her strength, but the harder she worked, the more acutely she felt the insurmountable gap between herself and Zeus. Thus, she could only comply and act as Zeus’s most obedient and dutiful daughter.

Now, she sensed that same awe-inspiring power in Hercules. Could Hercules defeat Zeus? She didn’t know, but she needed to judge for herself.

"Great God King Zeus, my father, let me take the next match."

Zeus, seeing Athena volunteer for the battle, allowed a hint of approval to flicker in his eyes. Zeus did indeed harbor a certain fondness for this daughter of his.

"Go, my daughter. I trust you’ll bring me victory."

Athena put her emotions in order, fully armed, and leapt onto the newly restored duel platform. Nezha was unsurprised to see Athena step forward—how could he evaluate her abilities if he didn’t test them personally?

Clad in dazzling golden armor, her helmet bound her flaxen hair, a golden sword sheathed at her waist. In one hand, she carried a shield adorned with Medusa’s head, while the other wielded the Wisdom Wand—a staff over two meters long with a crescent blade at its apex resembling a hybrid of spear and rod.

At this moment, Athena exuded the true essence of a War God.

"Hercules, let me see just how far you’ve come!"

Faced with this situation, Nezha knew that defeating her swiftly would be the best course of action. The stronger he demonstrated himself, the happier Athena would be.

"Come at me!"

Amid a resounding clap of thunder, the third duel commenced.

Athena instantly raised her shield high; the Medusa head on the shield fired beams of blue light at Nezha. Yet the blue petrifying beams were wholly absorbed by the black cloak on Nezha’s body, rendering them entirely ineffective—for in the darkness, light ceased to exist.

Undeterred, Athena let out a furious cry, gripping her Wisdom Wand like a spear and charging forward. The crescent-shaped blade at its apex shimmered with golden divine radiance, swinging down before she even approached.

Athena was well aware of Hercules’s terrifying strength; her estimation was that if she allowed him to get close, the result would be instant defeat.

Her calculations were correct, but that was the Hercules of the past. The current Hercules, having been upgraded once more, now possessed power comparable to God King Zeus.

Before Athena’s golden divine energy could explode, it was caught barehanded by Nezha, who crushed it into nothing with a single squeeze. Compared to Poseidon, Athena’s divine energy was of significantly higher quality—clearly, she differed from the other gods, spending her free time diligently honing her skills.

However, her methods were too Primordial, inefficient to the extreme. Of course, that couldn’t be blamed on her; this world lacked a Daoist Ancestor to impart wisdom. In the Primordial realm, while the path upward was ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine... percent obstructed for most Immortals, at least everyone could see it, providing a goal to strive for.

Their aspirations were exceedingly simple: to become Saints, achieving ultimate freedom and boundless serenity.

But here, it was different. In this world, societal hierarchy was largely determined the moment one was born. Effort thereafter merely decided whether one lived at the top or bottom of their given class.