In the Yuanmang Constellation, within a sect's refined residence on some super plane of a Great World, dozens of late Integration Stage Great Cultivators of the Human Race had gathered in one hall.
The majestic spiritual power coiling around them nearly swelled this quiet refined residence to bursting.
Everyone seated here today was a High-tier Cultivator with the oldest qualifications and deepest foundations among several super planes of the Yuanmang Constellation's Great World.
Ever since the great war of the Mo Race invasion had erupted, they had gathered here, most of the time going day and night without sleep, burying themselves in discussions of how the war would unfold, their brows always locked with a gloom that would not dissolve.
In this great war, the Mo Race had struck first, seizing the initiative and launching a sudden attack on dozens of Human Race planes before anyone was prepared.
And the vast majority of their sudden attack targets had succeeded, reaping considerable gains.
By contrast, the Human Race had been trapped in the awkward plight of passively taking blows from the very start of the war, caught in a dilemma whether to advance or retreat.
Thus, for more than a month in succession, an extremely heavy and oppressive atmosphere had permeated this refined residence, pressing down until people could barely breathe.
These dozens of top big shots from the major sects of the Great World had truly racked their brains and worn their hearts ragged over this great war.
Although the sects of the Human Race on every plane had long since mobilized every member, exhausting all they could to resist the Mo Race, the initiative had already been lost, and the battlefield situation had never improved at all. Instead, it showed signs of worsening by the day.
Today, the refined