As Emperor Yuan's voice echoed through the hall, a series of images flashed through the minds of everyone present—everyone except Yun Che.
The first image was the fateful confrontation between Mo Su, Pan Xiaodie, and others against the Zhutian Divine Emperor.
The second was of Emperor Mo'e, wielding the Zhutian Ancestral Sword, banishing them all into the abyss of nothingness.
The third—etched deepest of all—was a scene of grief: Mo Su, cradling the lifeless body of Pan Xiaodie, howling in anguish into the abyss.
The root of this tragedy stemmed from the so-called "balance" and "separation" between gods and demons. The union of the two was deemed a grave sin. And the one who most rigidly upheld this creed was none other than the Zhutian Divine Emperor himself—Mo'e.
He deemed such a union intolerable, especially among divine and demonic sovereigns. Even though Mo Su was his own son—the Prince of Zhutian—Mo'e wielded the sword of judgment without mercy. For the sake of his ideology, he severed blood ties and cut down his own kin.
At this moment, silence blanketed the hall. No one from the six great realms, the seven divine clans, or even the dragon race dared to speak, as if fearing they would disturb the mournful stillness.
Only the Great Wilderness Priest remained unmoved, while the other three priests beside Emperor Yuan wore complex expressions of reminiscence. They had personally witnessed and survived that calamity alongside Yuan Huang, and now, those painful memories surged back, striking deep into their hearts.
But grief, like all things, fades with time.
Their perseverance had borne fruit. Their decision to shield Emperor Yuan had been correct from the very beginning. Yet the final vindication came too late. Mo'e—the Zhutian Divine Emperor—had never lived to witness it, and Emperor Yuan's lineage remained without the recognition it deserved.
After a moment, Emperor Yuan spoke again, his voice calm and resolute.
"After saying so much, I trust you all now understand what I mean. We of the Abyss have always upheld the principle of the 'Noble Soul.' Everything we do is without shame. The true mistakes were made by the so-called 'Eternal Pure Land.' So when we step into the world of life again, we need not feel guilt over our origins. Instead, we should feel pride for the path we've walked."
"All who come from the Abyss will bear radiant bodies and noble souls, far above the so-called natives of the Eternal Pure Land."
"This world we've forged—this future that now stands before us—is thanks to every one of you. From the bottom of my heart… I thank you."
To everyone's astonishment, Emperor Yuan stood and bowed deeply.
Shocked by this display, the gathered gods and lords quickly rose to return the bow with the utmost respect.
"Lord Yuanhuang's grace to this world surpasses that of heaven itself. How can we, mere denizens of the Abyss, accept such an honor? Please do not humble us so," said Lord Jueluo earnestly.
"Indeed. Lord Yuanhuang is the eternal pillar and noble beacon of the Abyss. Everything we possess—our cultivation, our lives—is thanks to him. We can only respond with unending gratitude," added Lord Qiheng respectfully.
"The Abyss Emperor is eternal! The Abyss is blessed by his existence!"
"The Abyss Emperor is eternal! The Abyss is blessed by his existence!"
Their voices rang in unison, echoing across the sacred space.
Emperor Yuan raised a hand. "Please, be seated. I am not the sole architect of this world. Many true gods and martyrs offered their lives, their loyalty, and their faith—swearing to follow me to the end."
His face remained expressionless, like a statue frozen in time.
He continued, "As in past Pure Land Meetings, the next phase belongs to the Sons and Daughters of God from each realm. However, the stakes this time are far greater."
"Though our Pioneer Knights have successfully located the coordinates of the Eternal Pure Land, the abyssal passage that will open again cannot accommodate every one of us."
His voice was steady, but the weight of his words hit like thunder.
A quota had been established.
Those who failed to secure a place would be left behind… forced to face the advancing Time Black Tide—the corrosive force that would eventually unravel the laws of time and destroy their world.
"In past conferences, the Sons and Daughters competed for personal glory. But this time, you carry the hopes of your entire realm. Your final ranking will determine the teleportation quota allocated to your Kingdom of God. This is no longer a personal contest, but a battle for the fate of your people."
"There are only 100,000 teleportation spots."
"The Eternal Pure Land will take 10,000. Each of the six great kingdoms will receive 10,000. The Dragon Clan will receive 1,000. These are the minimum allocations. The remaining 29,000 places will be distributed based on final rankings."
"Sixth and seventh place will receive no additional quota. Fifth will gain 500 spots. Fourth—1,500. Third—4,000. Second—8,000. First place… will receive 15,000 places."
This was not a proposal. It was a decree.
The divine lords and kings in the hall understood instantly—each shift in rank could mean the survival or annihilation of millions.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.
"Lord Yuanhuang," said Hua Fuchen, rising with steady composure. "Forgive my boldness, but I must speak. Given the vast disparities in cultivation among the divine heirs of different kingdoms, is it truly fair to base the quotas solely on final rankings?"
This was a question born not of defiance, but desperation.
Hua Caili, the Goddess of the Zhetian Divine Kingdom, had only attained demigod status three years ago. Compared to the other heirs, her cultivation was by far the weakest. In terms of sheer combat power, their realm stood little chance.
The Dragon Lord rose as well. "Divine Venerable Hua speaks truthfully. The Dragon Clan is few in number. To even receive 1,000 places is already a great blessing. But our representative, Wangchu, is only at the Divine Lord Realm. Competing with heirs of higher realms would be suicide… and disgrace."
In past gatherings, final rankings mattered little. But now, with the very survival of each kingdom hanging in the balance, these concerns had to be voiced.
"Why does Lord Dragon speak as if questioning the Abyss Emperor's judgment?" Lord Jueluo countered coldly. For the Senluo Divine Kingdom, this format was perfect—after all, Dian Jiuzhi was widely known as the strongest Son of God in the Abyss.
"Hmph! Blame no one but yourselves for choosing heirs so weak!" sneered Shen Wuyan Ye of the Eternal Night Divine Kingdom. "Our new Goddess has already reached the sixth level of the Divine Destruction Realm in under fifty years. If your candidates are inadequate, perhaps the fault lies in your realm's lack of talent—or effort."
"You—!" the Dragon Lord sputtered, but could not retort. The truth was undeniable. The Ancestral Dragon bloodline's current generation was… lacking.
"Enough," Emperor Yuan raised his hand, calming the room. "I am well aware of these concerns."
"There's something you have overlooked: the Panming Void-Breaking Mirror is currently recovering its power. It cannot create the spatial projections like the Zhoutian Pearl did in the past. Therefore, a new method of competition—fairer and more comprehensive—has been arranged."
A faint smile appeared on his otherwise solemn face.
(End of Chapter)
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