"Agreed!"
Withered Glory Ancestor of the Ten Thousand Immortals Sect was the first to nod, his voice withered and dry.
"This one concurs!" Sky-Rending Sword of the Spirit Fusion Immortal Sect declared in a sonorous voice.
"Good." Soul Silence Master of the Primal Soul Palace was brief and to the point.
"...I concur." After a moment of silence, Profound Sword Half-Venerable slowly uttered those two words as well.
A fragile consensus was barely reached in the face of the immense crisis.
Immediately after, the atmosphere within the great hall abruptly changed.
The gravity and unease from moments ago were replaced by something more practical—bare, naked calculations of profit.
The representatives of the three major factions—the immortals, the demons, and the Sea Suppressing Alliance—began a fierce yet cautious war of words over the details of how they would unite, how resources would be allocated, how intelligence would be shared, and how, amid the potential unrest, they would divide their spheres of influence and safeguard their respective core interests.
Meanwhile, deep within the Demon Alliance seas, beneath a desolate island.
Deep underground!
An ancient, shadowy stone hall built from enormous old boulders had stood since time immemorial.
The hall was dimly lit. Only several ghostly green Soul Lamps swayed with faint light, illuminating the mottled, bizarre murals upon the Stone Walls.
The air was cold and stagnant, filled with the rotten aura of ages gone by and...
a bone-chilling, frigid power.
At the center of the great hall sat several dozen figures. All wore voluminous Black Robes, their faces concealed beneath hoods or strange masks. Their Auras were obscure and unfathomable, like ghosts merged into the shadows.
The pressure radiating from every Black Robe was enough to make ordinary Mortal Cultivators tremble in fear.
On several thrones carved from whole blocks of