The Iron Curtain Sovereign hovered in the Definition Sea, a hundred thousand silver-white silhouettes arranged behind him in a standard attack formation. His voice exploded directly inside every member of the Ember Expeditionary Army's Definition System, carrying the judgment of someone looking down from on high:
"Tuners of the Ember Era. You let civilizations create their own definitions, abandon order, and indulge chaos. This is a desecration of the Definition System."
Harmonic Leaping Note's forty layers of harmonics trembled at once-not from fear, but from anger. She stepped forward, her voice icy. "Our three hundred and seventy million civilizations are doing just fine. We don't need you to teach us."
The Iron Curtain Sovereign sneered. He raised his hand, and the hundred thousand warriors behind him simultaneously released a silver-white radiance-not an attack, but a "demonstration." Within the light appeared a miniature of the Iron Curtain Universe: hundreds of millions of civilizations operating in perfect uniformity, each civilization's definitions compressed into a single trait, "order." There was no color, no music, no emotion, only cold, precise, unshakable order.
"Do you see? This is the ultimate form of the Definition System. There is no need to waste resources on useless diversity. Order, and order alone, can keep the Definition System running forever."
The miniature was reflected on Myriad Faces and Forms' mirrored surface, then a tiny crack appeared-not from an attack, but from "disgust." They had never experienced such a physical reaction before.
The Prismglass Civilization's three thousand six hundred weavers simultaneously tightened their grip on the colors in their hands. Their sixty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven colors shook violently before that miniature, not from fear, but from anger-the Iron Curtain Universe had no color. That was a darkness the Prismglass Civilization could not imagine.
Lin Ye had remained silent.