Will felt a sinking sensation in his chest, though he showed no outward hesitation. Instead, he stepped forward confidently, addressing the figure in front of him. "Might I be addressing Mr. Elliott?"

"Indeed, you are," Elliott replied, exuding an easy charm as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Will offered a wry smile. "I’ve heard tales of your exceptional abilities. Are you of the opinion that I’m an imposter?"

Elliott responded, "Naturally. True leaders command an aura you noticeably lack, confirming my suspicions."

"Oh?" Will’s smile carried a hint of mockery. "In that case, why don’t you confront me, then?"

Elliott hesitated, unsure of the invitation’s sincerity, yet confident enough not to feel threatened by mere mortals, and strolled up to Will. "You’d be wise to confess now. Perhaps the ladies might show mercy and let you leave intact."

With a cold smile, Will dropped a bloodstained knife at Elliott’s feet. "Rumor has it you value cause and effect. If I’m truly a fraud, why not personally ensure my end?"

"A mere mortal expects me to soil my hands?" Elliott’s expression was disdainful, but his gaze involuntarily shifted, searching for a woman of similar mystical prowess.

Will pressed on, "Is it cowardice that stays your hand?"

"Very well," Elliott relented, raising his hand until it shimmered with a bright light. "Since you insist on courting death, I shall oblige."

Will’s supporters cried out in unison. "Mr. President! No!"

Will stood still, heart pounding but his lips curving with defiance. "Mr. Elliott, are you really ready to face the consequences of attacking the President of the United States?"

Of course, Elliott was afraid. Were there any alternatives, he wouldn’t dare eliminate Will, as even in the absence of punishment, the repercussions would be unbearable. 

But with his goals so close, retreat was no longer an option. Once achieved, the death of a mere mortal would hold little consequence.

As Elliott's hand glowed bright with impending action, cold dread washed over him. He instinctively dodged thanks to a primal sense of danger.

A fierce blaze erupted, surging between him and Will.

Will exhaled, drenched in sweat as relief washed over him.

"Who are you?" Elliott demanded, staring upward.

Descending gracefully, Joanna’s form cast a shadow while her white garments billowed like ethereal butterflies. Flames danced obediently to her command, binding to her fingers.

"A cultivator..." Elliott whispered in shock, his pupils dilated. "Impossible... no, wounded."

His fear turned to glee. No longer thinking of fleeing, he saw profit—a potential trove of resources on this injured cultivator.

Despite his words masked as ridicule, he demanded, "What demoness dares disrupt society?"

Joanna ignored his spat and commanded threads of flame to ensnare him.

Elliott slapped talismans across his body to ward off the fire with a hiss and resolved to counter her chains with a swift grab from his possessions—a modest but powerful peach wood sword. To Joanna’s surprise, her fire couldn’t char it.

Even more curious, as he swung, a hazy mist, distinctively acrid, emanated, indicating acidic properties.

Joanna recalled battle techniques, swiftly evading attacks, though her steps were less practiced, taking glancing blows. The mist touched her robes, causing no damage but fading intricate patterns.

Elliott's expression brimmed with delight as he pressed his offense.

Joanna appeared overwhelmed, retreating as her flames dimmed. Eyeing her mystical tools greedily, Elliott planned to seize victory with a singular strike.

Fog expanded at the sword’s tip, forming a five-meter sphere. Elliott shouted, "Go!"

The sphere launched toward Joanna with menacing force.

Joanna dropped back gracefully, the fog enveloping her with anguished cries. Elliott realized in horror his attack unknowingly caused collateral damage, afflicting nearby innocents with searing pain and silent collapse, rupturing their defensive lines into chaos.

A radical change had slipped through amidst the skirmish between Joanna and Elliott, unforeseen and uncontrollable, rocking their world.