He had learned some Shamanic methods, knew the Barbarian God’s strength, but only upon truly confronting him did he grasp how terrifying the Barbarian God was.
Such an existence was insurmountable by mere human power.
The Barbarian God gazed at the elder, taunting, "Rarely have time to toy with you, yet you took it seriously, as if I would regard your paltry witchcraft highly?"
The elder gave a bitter smile, looking utterly wretched.
The Barbarian God slowly approached the elder, seemingly intending to finish him.
At this moment, the elder’s bitter smile vanished, replaced by an icy indifference:
"I know, that’s why I never planned to win from the start..."
The Barbarian God’s face changed.
The elder suddenly thrust the Sacrificial Knife into his own heart.
The knife’s power surged into his heart, augmenting his divine thought body, blood threads weaving across his entire being.
This was an "explosion" method, using one’s own divine sense as a medium, a forbidden technique in witchcraft.
The elder had been resigned to death from the start, planning to go down together.
But before he could self-detonate, a cyan and crimson arm abruptly plunged into his heart, forcibly extracting the Sacrificial Knife and his divine flesh.
The elder’s expression shifted drastically, desperately trying to struggle.
But his right arm was severed in an instant.
The pain coursed through his divine sense, and the elder, gritting his teeth, endured it as he looked on, witnessing his right arm being devoured by the Barbarian God.
Meanwhile, the Barbarian God toyed with the Sacrificial Knife in his hand.
Facing him with a face full of mockery and fangs:
"I told you, I am a god. How could I not know your petty schemes? Just a mere mortal wanting to kill a god, what a joke! Just playing with you for amusement."
The elderly barbarian wore an expression of despair.
Yes, if the Barbarian God weren’t a "god," why would their tribe worship him for hundreds of years?
The Barbarian God worshipped for centuries could not possibly be dealt with just by a barbarian cultivator using a bit of witchcraft...
"This indeed is... a ’God’..."
The elderly barbarian’s chest was hollow, his lips bloodied, looking at the irresistible Barbarian God, his gaze bore hopelessness.
Yet at this moment, the towering Barbarian God’s chest suddenly emitted a brilliant golden light.
Then a small golden fist shot through the Barbarian God’s back, piercing its chest, the remaining golden light annihilating a large swath of blue-black flesh.
A childish yet lazy and somewhat disappointed voice spoke:
"I thought it was a kind of god, but it’s just a small mountain ghost dressed in yellow for show."
The Barbarian God was struck dumb.
The elder’s pupils dilated.
In the next instant, the golden light exploded.
The mighty Barbarian God was effortlessly torn apart by a pair of small hands, and then incinerated and refined by flames, drawn into a mouth.