In the vast, oppressive Great Hall, Zhou Ming, Pangu, and Wu held their power tightly in check, their gazes locked firmly on the faceless stone statue before them.
Just as the three were on full alert, the calm gray-black patterns on the stone statue's surface began to ripple in layer after layer of ripples.
A translucent phantom slowly rose from within the statue, hovering in the empty space above the Great Hall.
The figure wore a loose robe, his hands clasped behind his back.
Like the stone statue, his face was shrouded in a thin mist—seemingly faint, yet impossible to see through no matter what.
Yet the instant he appeared, the muscles of Zhou Ming, Pangu, and Wu all tensed to the limit.
Though no fluctuations of power emanated from him, they sensed from this unassuming figure an ancient majesty and dominance too overwhelming to look upon directly.
The Law around Zhou Ming's body swiftly condensed as he spoke in a low voice.
"Who are you, sir?"
The phantom did not answer at once. Instead, his gaze swept over the three of them.
He looked at Pangu, then Zhou Ming, before finally letting his gaze settle on Wu.
The phantom nodded.
Although they could not see his face, Zhou Ming and the others could clearly sense that the phantom had smiled when looking at Wu.
"Not bad." The phantom spoke softly, his voice deep and forceful, carrying the weight of countless ages.
The phantom withdrew his gaze, looked at the three of them, and slowly spoke.
"You may call me Yuan Chu."
"Of course, you may also call me the Will of the Chaos Sea."
The moment those words fell, the atmosphere in the Great Hall froze solid.
Zhou Ming and the other two widened their eyes, their faces filled