The Strength of a Nirvana Adept

This was the leverage their side held when armed forces sat down to negotiate.

In this land of chaos, fighting was commonplace, and so was talking.

Fighting while talking was commonplace too.

Without a solid trump card, who would dare venture into a Temple-controlled zone teeming with mutants?

The Tiger Army had an informant inside the Temple.

In truth, none of the major armies could prevent the others from planting informants in their ranks.

The Tiger Army had sent seven military vehicles and thirty-one people to negotiate with the Temple, and it had a trump card: missiles stood ready!

Targets locked!

If the Temple dared overturn the table and kill those thirty-one people, the missiles would launch at once and blanket the area with fire.

Nothing unusual happened along the way.

The military vehicles drove toward the Temple.

Outside the Temple lay ancient bluestone steps.

The steps were mottled with age, but no one dared set foot on them lightly.

For this Temple was the seat of power in Sam Temple.

The seven elders, the left and right envoys, the Nirvana Adept, and the Litian Tribe's finest fighters were all here.

The vehicles stopped.

Tore led the party of thirty-one on foot through a dim corridor ahead.

Beyond it lay the Temple arena.

Across the arena stood a row of white-clad figures.

The first elder stood with seven others in the middle of the open ground.

He greeted the Tiger Army's thirty-one high-ranking officers with a smile.

No one paid any attention to the dark passage.

Once they had all passed through, the White-Robed Left Envoy frowned slightly inside a hidden chamber along the passage. He held a chess piece between his fingers, but did not place it for a long time.

Across from him sat the same black-clad man,