Terrifying auras filled the seven starfields.
The Human Race's mighty and its elite Dao soldiers began converging on the centers of the starfields, on the sacred grounds of the Immortal Orders where the Eighth Tribulation Supremes resided. They showed no fear that those Supremes would absorb and devour them in an instant. Instead, they began drilling in starfield-scale killing formations and drawing up systems of rewards, punishments, and compensation for the fallen.
The Supremes were shrewd people. What was difficult about establishing such systems?
Who did not know how to build an army united in purpose?
Was that some secret inheritance?
As the overlords of the boundless starry sky, the Human Race had everything and knew everything. They simply had not been able to put it into practice before. The rifts between them had been too deep for mutual trust.
It was not that they had been unwilling to form a Human Race alliance. As the Demon Race and the divine path encroached step by step, every Supreme had felt concern and entertained the same idea. But putting it into practice had been too difficult.
Every order had wrestled with one question.
If the Human Race won, would the order and its members survive, perhaps even rise higher?
If the order perished, what would a Human Race victory have to do with them?
No order and no mighty cultivator could make that promise!
They had all been trapped in a prisoner's dilemma. Everyone knew the spoils of victory would not be divided by merit in battle, but by the strength each side retained afterward. No one dared throw themselves into the fight for victory.
Now, all of that had been resolved.
A command from a True Immortal Heir could establish political trust. Any order that dared openly defy him would