Elsewhere.
Inside a room resembling the mouth of a gourd in the secret passage on the sixth floor of the Red Mist Great Hall, the Phantom Clan's King-tier expert and the Multi-Armed Clan lord were hiding on either side of the doorway.
"The looks in those lords' eyes before they died, when they saw us working together to kill them... that was truly delightful." The Phantom Clan's King-tier expert had taken the form of a solid green undead being. His voice was hoarse, as though he had just risen from ancient times.
As he sharpened the long blade in his right hand, the Multi-Armed Clan lord sneered. "Of course you're happy. You rose from lord to King-tier. Such a near-impossible leap, and you accomplished it so easily."
"You'll reach King-tier soon enough. I promised to help you kill the other lords, and I will keep that promise." The Phantom King's voice carried a teasing note. The Multi-Armed Clan lord stared at the six weapons in his six hands and said, "I hope so."
"You and I are both pitiful people. We were thrown in here to die, yet they never realized that we've known each other for centuries. We really are fortunate, hahaha." The Phantom King spoke quietly, but his delight was obvious.
In truth, every race in the other world understood very well that entering this realm through the Red Mist Blood Pool, which opened once every hundred years, was equivalent to being sent to one's death.
The patriarchs of the various races would never send their own children or trusted clansmen here. Only those with ordinary relations with the patriarch, or those ostracized within their clans, would be thrown into this place.
As it happened, the Phantom King was the son of the previous Phantom Clan patriarch, while