From the moment John stepped into the illusion world, he had already found its weakness.
The illusion itself.
In America, such illusionary formations were nothing more than basic eye-trick arrays used by monks. Once you located the core of the array, breaking it wasn't difficult.
And John's Lucifer's Eyes were born for this kind of task.
The very first thing he noticed was the bright red moon overhead.
Four words instantly popped into his mind:
"It's way too flashy."
That alone was a dead giveaway.
There was nothing inherently wrong with being flashy. But in this case, it screamed of inexperience.
Because the core of Mandel's illusion world was blatantly placed in that overly radiant red moon.
It was almost as if Mandel had personally told him,
"Hey, look up. That moon? That's where you break me."
In short—it was a flawed illusion.
A truly sophisticated illusion array would hide its core in something small and unassuming—a tree, a flower, a rock… even a single grain of sand.
Simplicity hides truth. That was the heart of advanced array design.
In America, there were many branches of cultivation. One of them specialized in spiritual formations. These spiritual array masters might not have the strongest cultivation, but their mastery of formations was unparalleled.
Some were so skilled, they could embed the array core into a speck of dust beneath someone's foot—nearly impossible to detect.
Even against powerful cultivators, if the core couldn't be found, these masters could trap opponents far above their level.
Ultimately, breaking an array wasn't about brute force.
It was about insight. About perception. About finding that hidden thread in the illusion's web.
But Mandel—so confident in his abilities—had set the core of his array on the most eye-catching object in the sky.
Anyone with spiritual awareness stronger than his would see right through it.
John did.
He found the core in seconds. Breaking it took no effort.
And in that instant, the illusion Mandel was so proud of collapsed, along with all his self-assurance.
—
Back in the real world, Mandel stood motionless, stunned—as if his soul had left his body.
The nearby Ninjas looked confused.
Mandel's illusion had targeted John alone. None of them had entered it, so they had no idea what had occurred.
What baffled them even more was John.
From the moment the illusion began to the moment it ended, his expression never changed.
Meanwhile, their deputy leader—Mandel—had suddenly burst into tears, face full of sorrow and guilt.
None of them knew the truth.
Inside the illusion, Mandel had truly believed he himself had killed his own son, pushing him into molten magma. The grief was real. The pain unforgettable.
Now, John stirred.
His body moved. His steps were steady.
Mandel, however, remained dazed. To the bystanders, it seemed as though John had emerged from the illusion—while Mandel was still lost inside it.
The whole scene was surreal.
Finally, John spoke, calm and clear:
"Your illusion has been broken. Time to fulfill the conditions we agreed on."
Mandel shuddered and snapped out of his trance.
Only then did the surrounding Ninjas realize: he hadn't been stuck in the illusion. He'd simply been shocked speechless.
For someone as formidable as Mandel to be left like this—something huge must have happened inside that illusion.
But what? They could only guess.
Mandel said nothing more. Instead, he issued a simple order for everyone to leave the room.
Once alone with John, Mandel dropped to his knees.
"I lost the bet," he said solemnly. "From this moment forward, you are my master."
John gave a faint nod, satisfied.
He took a drop of blood from Mandel's fingertip, drew a seal, and locked it.
Then—
The leader of the Ninja League burst into the room, flanked by Tiffany and several elite high-level Ninjas.
Tiffany had already informed the leader of what she knew.
So the moment he entered, his gaze locked onto John with burning hostility.
The high-level Ninjas wasted no time—they spread out, surrounding him with swift precision.
Though the leader knew the general situation, he still bellowed:
"Mandel, what the hell is going on?"
Mandel stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"This American killed my son. But I made him a promise—if he could break my illusion, I would drop the matter. He did… so I have."
Of course, he didn't tell them that he had also sworn allegiance to John.
The leader's eyes narrowed sharply.
He turned to John, voice icy cold:
"You can walk away from Mandel's vengeance… but not ours."
His words rang with threat.
The leader of the Australian Ninja League would never allow an outsider to humiliate one of his top men and then walk away unscathed.
If they allowed this American to leave freely, their reputation across Australia would be in ruins.
So today, no matter what—it didn't matter what promises Mandel made—they would kill this arrogant foreigner.
The killing intent around them surged like a tide.
Mandel hesitated, clearly wanting to speak—but when he looked at John's composed expression, he held his tongue and silently stepped aside.
The air turned tense.
The League Leader's aura far surpassed Mandel's—his killing intent was colder, sharper, more ruthless.
All around, the elite Ninjas closed in, ready to strike.
And John?
He remained calm.
He didn't raise a hand. He didn't draw a weapon.
Instead, he walked forward, toward the League Leader.
As he passed, he looked at him with a small smile.
"Nice mask," John said softly. "I wonder… has the scar underneath finished healing?"
Then, without waiting for a response, he walked right past him, heading for the exit.
For a second—
The League Leader's entire body shuddered.
His killing intent?
Vanished.
Just like that.