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Neither of them spoke. The air seemed to have congealed, and a heavy, sticky sense of oppression plastered itself over their chests, stifling them.
And then there was that "Ancient Death Spiral Array," which sounded like nothing good just from the name. Chen Weizhe's brows knitted tightly as he began a line of deduction that made his back grow colder the more he thought about it.
"Didn't the Chen Clan scrape that damned 'Ancient Death Spiral Array' thing out of Crimson's hands? They say that wicked thing can fucking assist with breaking through bottlenecks..."
"Fuck! Then the golden age line our Soul Master World recognizes for breaking through to Titled Douluo, once this shitty array messes with it... it might damn well be dragged back by quite a few years!"
His throat went dry and rough. "With that, the 'seeds' who have the qualifications and the lifespan to attempt the Titled Douluo threshold—that is, High-level Soul Douluo... their numbers are definitely going to fucking increase by a huge margin!"
He slowly extended three fingers, then four. "Just counting Crimson's eight regular legions... with the foundation they've built up over all these years, if you add up all their High-level Soul Douluo, at the very least... thirty or forty won't even cover it!"
Zuo Tinggang swallowed with a "gulp." He could already guess what Old Chen was about to say next.
"And over these years..." Chen Weizhe's brows were twisted deathly tight, his voice carrying an ice-cold chain of logic, "the Crimson Church went against its old habit of only making large-scale moves on the eve of a calamity, and started acting in advance again and again, stirring up trouble everywhere... We always thought they had changed their strategy, laying