The underground stone cavern trembled ever more violently.
Fragments of rock showered down from the walls, and billowing dust filled the dim space. The cold, deathly aura that had been on the verge of dissipating now seemed to answer the summons of some supreme power, surging back in a frenzy. The currents of air, spiritual energy, and even the remaining threads of fate throughout the entire space all converged upon the ancient stone coffin at the center.
Every cultivator froze in place, their bodies icy cold. None of them even dared to breathe too heavily.
Only Lin Chen had heard the secret words spoken by the Ancestral Seal just now. The others knew nothing of the earth-shattering secret of the third chess player, yet the scene before them was still so utterly bizarre that despair flooded every heart.
The agonizing pain of their fate disks shattering continued.
Strands of blood-colored fate essence seeped from the cultivators' bodies, rising uncontrollably into the air and transforming into countless fine crimson threads that rushed toward the stone coffin like moths to a flame. The ultimate backlash of the ancient sacrificial ground had fully taken shape. This unsolvable death trap had finally reached its last step.
"It's over... Our fates really are going to be sacrificed completely."
An old cultivator spoke in a hoarse voice, all light gone from his eyes. He had cultivated for centuries, ventured through countless perilous secret realms, and witnessed battles of life and death as well as heavenly tribulations. Yet he had never felt so powerless as he did today. Before the grand tide of this chess game spanning countless ages, personal cultivation, divine abilities, and obsessions were as insignificant as dust.
Several young cultivators beside him were deathly pale, their legs weak as they gritted their teeth and