Chapter 739: Secrets Originating from Ancient Times

The borders of the Principality of Lianshan played host to nearly the greater half of the most formidable powers upon the continent of Norah.

Indeed, perhaps never before had they assembled in such seamless unison; across the entirety of the continent, this was undeniably a moment of historic proportions.

To muster so many preeminent figures with such celerity spoke volumes of their foresight, for these paragons of the continent had long since stood prepared.

Sudden though the crisis was, it had not caught them utterly defenceless.

Thirteen individuals in total, thirteen masters of the Saint Realm, had converged: some, like the Sword Saint Cleus, had been dispatched as envoys of the Radiance Divine Kingdom; others, like Wellston, the Guardian Sword Saint of the Morning Star Empire, had answered the summons of the Coalition Summit to lead their armies into the fray; and still others, like the World Mage Hermadon, had come in direct response to the Great Council's clarion call.

Wilson, the Guardian Sword Saint of the Morning Star Empire, was a middle-aged man of silvering hair, whose commanding aura did nothing to diminish his refined, aristocratic grace; he chanced to be the Saint Realm expert standing closest to Owner Fang, and the city of Canglan was his personal domain, where he would occasionally review official documents in the quietude of his castle library. Having once married into the Ximia family as the most brilliant prodigy of the Morning Star Empire, many had viewed the union as a stain upon a knight's honor, and thus few ever knew that this imperial sword saint had a daughter serving within the Golden Gryphon Knights—a second- or even third-rate knightly order.

Standing at the very pinnacle of the continent, these figures naturally spared little attention for news of workshops or mystic realms, which held scarce any meaning for beings of their caliber.

Beyond them, moving further to the right, stood a middle-aged man clad in a brownish-black magic robe, his face overgrown with rough stubble; none would ever guess that this unkempt mage held the reins of the World Mage Alliance.

To his right stood a woman draped in a robe embroidered with dark gold filigree, a hood concealing all but a sliver of fiery red lips and an exquisitely sculpted chin, her breast bearing the intricate emblem of the Alchemist Guild.

There were, of course, those who knelt to other gods—such as the Winter Temple from the Frost Kingdom of the deep frozen tundra, where worshippers revered the God of Ice and Snow; the imposing man wrapped in thick furs and clutching a gem-encrusted scepter hailed from that very place.

Though they lacked the renown of the Judgement Temple, they nonetheless boasted their own powerhouses of the Saint Realm.

Casting one's gaze further down the line, one could see countenances as majestic as mountains alongside weathered faces etched by the passage of time; they stood proudly upon the city walls, their profound or solitary gazes sweeping into the distance as the fierce wind whipped their robes into a frenzy. They possessed every right to be proud, for each among them was a sovereign lord, the truest pride of humanity in this world.

They were also the mightiest line of defense.

...

The most elite magical legions awaited their command, and the most exceptional knights held their swords aloft, ready to charge into the maw of battle for their sake.

...

Opposite them.

In the distant sky, a solitary figure drew steadily nearer, wrapped in a black cloak; it was exceedingly tall and thin, and a glance inside its hood revealed what seemed to be a deep vortex, capable of drawing in a man's very soul.

"Any harvest?" The being seated upon the Shadow Demonic Dragon finally spoke, its voice dry and raspy, sounding like the friction of grinding rock and soil.

"None." They seemed to be searching for something, entirely disregarding the pinnacle experts of humanity arrayed before them.

...

Concurrently, in another world, upon the towering precipices of the Heavenly Abyss Sea.

A cold rain fell in a dreary drizzle, and the wild, churning waves battered the reef along the shore.

Shrouded in the miserable downpour, a tall, black-robed silhouette slowly pulled back the hood that had long concealed his face from the light of day.

What emerged was a somewhat withered, zombie-like face.

Yet his features bore no trace of decay; instead, they were turning slightly dark, gradually filling out and regaining a semblance of fullness.

His brow bulged slightly, as if demonic horns were about to burst forth.

"Confirmed?" he inquired.

From behind him stepped a slender, voluptuous figure draped in a trailing dress of black silk; the hem of her skirt fluttered against the gale like the waters of the Heavenly Abyss Sea, her face so pale it seemed utterly devoid of blood, while the demonic aura within her grew more potent, yet far more restrained.

"It has been confirmed. The owner of those Daoist pupils is currently working in Half-City..."

"There is a reason why they call those Daoist pupils fragments of a godhead... a pity, though."

"A pity we no longer need them," the woman murmured softly.

And likely could not afford them either.

"I am pitying how a perfectly good demonic bloodline ends up being called 'Black Uncle' and 'Sea Urchin Warrior' all day long..."

The faces of both individuals twitched simultaneously: ...it did indeed seem to be a problem.

...

Several silhouettes hovered high in the dark sky, some with faces twisted and grotesque to the left of the Shadow Demonic Dragon, evidently entirely inhuman.

To the right, a towering figure suspended in the heavens possessed bizarre, cloven hooves; its robust physique thrummed with a terrifying, irrepressible power, and that vast energy spilled out uncontrollably, to the point where a black storm and lightning could be seen swirling around its form.

Then, the figure upon the demonic dragon raised its greatsword high, letting loose a silent roar.

The sky, the earth, and indeed the entire world seemed to plunge into a shroud of absolute darkness.

"Fire—!" A screech rent the air, and several terrifying beams of light tore through the heavens, drawing open the curtains of the entire war as a black torrent surged from sky and land, violently crashing against the protective barrier of the fortress-like city.

At this very moment, even the supreme entities of the continent—the Elven Royal Court, the Dwarven Sky Fortress, the Radiance Divine Kingdom, and the Judgement Temple—were closely monitoring the shifting tides of this conflict.

Even certain magical forums were inundated with all manner of discussions regarding the war.

After all, it was not just anyone who could participate in a clash of this scale.

Precisely because of this, the debates on several magical forums grew all the more fervent.

Take, for instance, the largest magical forum of the current age, "The Eye of the Mystic Realm."

The threads concerning these matters had already surpassed the hundred thousand mark.

And various related discussion groups were likewise engaged in heated debate.

"What is there to worry about? When the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up."

"I have already migrated to the south; no matter how fiercely they fight, it won't reach us here."

"Heh, I am in the Radiance Divine Kingdom right now, working as a manager at the Crystal Stone Workshop. The workshop sent me straight to the imperial capital of the Radiance Divine Kingdom, and yesterday I even happened to meet Master Leiwu." The mage clad in star-patterned magical robes was still lingering in his alchemy lab, taking part in the discussion all the same.

With that, he transmitted a magical image of a magnificent complex of buildings; within the aristocratic district, upon a broad and immaculate street, an extraordinarily luxurious carriage swept past: "You can even catch a glimpse of Her Highness the Princess making an excursion."

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Maintaining 3 chapters today, 2 more coming shortly, and a burst of 4 to 5 chapters tomorrow, requesting monthly votes.

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