In the alien Stellar Sea, blood mist filled the void.
Countless sixth- and seventh-order Evil Horned Tribe members moved through it, each wearing a grim expression, the iron-blooded smoke of war still lingering around them.
At the heart of the blood mist, a War Fortress presided over the center. Its size far exceeded that of an ordinary star, and fluttering banners filled its surroundings.
Every flying banner bore the same striking character: "Sen"!
"Reporting to the ancestor!"
Inside the fortress's Main Hall, an eighth-order Evil Horn Elder lay prostrate on the ground, looking toward the imposing middle-aged man seated above.
"An edict has arrived from the Blood Rot Tribe. They say that the Ten Thousand Races shared weal and woe, and demand that we immediately cease our war with the Black Wing Tribe, reopen the Astral Rifts, and launch incursions into the Heavenly Demon heartland..."
"An edict?"
A soft exclamation chilled the entire hall.
As the eighth-order Elder trembled uneasily and secretly glanced toward the seat above, the imposing middle-aged man suddenly curled his lips in a sneer.
"Tell them to get lost!"
"Get lost?"
The Elder's eyes bulged. Cold sweat instantly seeped across his forehead as he quietly reminded him:
"Ancestor, we can simply placate them. There is no need to offend them so thoroughly, is there? After all, the Blood Rot Tribe is an Upper Kindred Race..."
"Pah!"
The imposing middle-aged man slammed the armrest. A mouthful of spit struck the ground as he said disdainfully:
"Lord Youming has fallen, and their ancestral land has been lost with him. We are all brothers in the same boat now, yet the Blood Rot Tribe still wants to put on the airs of an Upper Kindred Race?"
"If not for the fact that they still have two Ninth Order members