"You can talk big, but your body has to lie low."
Emperor Yin spoke ten words of truth.
"Understood..."
The elderly Eonic Gods nodded one after another, bowed, and withdrew.
Only then did the Stellar Divine Palace fall silent.
Emperor Yin sank back into the rainbow star river of the celestial pool. This time, he closed his eyes.
Just then.
A bewitching crimson silhouette emerged from his chest and asked softly, "Do you truly think so?"
Emperor Yin pursed his lips. "Just stabilizing the people's hearts for now."
"So?"
Emperor Yin took a deep breath.
"At present, Zhantian has no other choice. He can only gamble everything on one throw."
"Ten million generations ago, our ancestors gambled on a dream called the 'Eight Gods of Chaos,' successfully turning themselves from beast-taming slaves into masters. And this time..."
"Will we remain masters, or go back to being beast-taming slaves?" the crimson silhouette asked in a ghostly voice.
"That depends on whether we can still remain masters. If we can't, then even being slaves would be better than losing our nation and seeing our race exterminated."
Emperor Yin sighed deeply. "Once you perish once, once your race is wiped out, it is basically impossible to return to the peak. So this time, who knows who will have the last laugh?"
"Fortunately, at least you still have a choice. The people in the other seven seats do not."
The crimson silhouette said.
"Six, then! Those existences in the Disorderly Reflection are only hanging a name there. Their battlefield isn't here—they rule the other side of the world."
After Emperor Yin said this, he shut his mouth, sank into the depths of the celestial pool, and spoke no more.
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
The Imperial Star, five times the size of a Myriad-Universe-class