"If we don't avenge this, how can the Profound Dao Palace still hold its head high in the Central Continent?" Duan Wuji's voice rumbled like thunder through the hall.
"What will become of the dignity of a Nascent Soul-level power?"
"If one cultivator at Golden Core Perfection isn't enough, then we'll send two! Three! Five! Ten!"
"No matter how many tricks you have, no matter how formidable you are... I refuse to believe you can defeat that many cultivators at Golden Core Perfection!"
With that thought, Duan Wuji moved to awaken the cultivators at Golden Core Perfection slumbering within the stone statues.
But he had taken only one step when his body abruptly froze.
At that very moment.
A thought entered his mind.
The thought felt utterly unfamiliar to Duan Wuji, yet profoundly familiar!
It was the Dao Lord!
The thought seeped silently into his Sea of Consciousness like mercury spilling across the ground. It bypassed every Divine Sense defense he had and sounded directly in the depths of his mind.
It felt as though someone had planted a seed in his soul, leaving no room for refusal or resistance.
"The Hundred Thousand Year Calamity is approaching. I have need of those at Golden Core Perfection."
The thought became a voice inside Duan Wuji's mind.
Its tone was gentle, like a mother whispering to an infant in her arms.
The voice was warm as water and soft as wind, like the tenderest murmur in the world.
Yet not a trace of emotion could be heard within it.
Pure gentleness, pure calm—it was an indifference beyond joy, anger, sorrow, or delight, almost like that of the Heavenly Dao.
Duan Wuji went still for a moment, then dropped to his knees with a thud.
His knees struck the cold stone floor with