Amon's consciousness swiftly rose, breaking through the boundary between illusion and reality. He opened his eyes to find himself in a grand hall filled with endless gray fog.
Massive stone pillars carved with mysterious symbols supported the towering dome. A bronze long table stood quietly at the center, surrounded by twenty-two high-backed chairs, ancient and enigmatic.
It was time for the Truth Conference again.
At the head of the long table sat Daoist Priest, his hands clasped atop the smooth tabletop, his chin lightly resting on the backs of his hands as though deep in thought. The next second, accompanied by a subtle ripple in the mist, Shaman's figure gradually materialized in the corresponding seat.
Almost at the same time, a sudden change erupted at the spot that had once belonged to Feather Spirit! Thick, blood-red fog spread out of nowhere. Within it, the outline of an extremely twisted figure, brimming with savage malice, struggled to emerge, releasing a roar that shook the entire hall.
The roar was filled with madness and brutality. That terrifying figure and roar appeared only briefly before seeming to be cut off by an invisible Barrier and swiftly dissipating, leaving only a chilling echo reverberating through the Gray Fog.
"Feather Spirit... what happened to him?" There was a trace of barely perceptible unease in Shaman's voice.
Daoist Priest shook his head slightly. His usually tranquil voice now carried a hint of gravity.
"He seems to have been completely devoured by a frenzied will and failed the test of the immortal gods. His mental state had already been unstable before, with a tendency toward madness.
"Perhaps he was too eager to obtain the power within God's Blood, and his exploration became too radical. His mind ultimately slipped into an irretrievable abyss. Having lost his reason, he