The ancestors of the [Northern Deep] Aristocratic Clan, who had become ghost gods, stared at the sky in terror and unease.
A square platform had appeared in the sky.
The platform bristled with weapons: sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, battle-axes, hooks, and tridents.
The weapons stood like a forest, each radiating a terrifying aura that threatened to cleave these ancestral ghost gods' souls apart from afar.
They wanted to flee, but they dared not.
They felt that the moment they turned around, a mere spark of power from any weapon above would cleave them to death.
The [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure].
"We're going to die!"
Despair filled every ghost god's heart.
Against the [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure], never mind them-even if their ancestors emerged at their peak, their fate would be death and the dissolution of their cultivation.
This [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure] was a Magic Treasure used on large-scale battlefields.
Activating it once consumed enormous resources, and its power was equally enormous.
Never mind ghost gods-even demon gods stronger than them could not withstand a strike from the [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure].
Only a [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure] could withstand a [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure].
Yet their [Northern Deep] Household had risen only twenty or thirty thousand years ago. Never mind a [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure]-they could not even scrape together its components.
Just then, several juniors who had fled in panic from the Present World cried out, "Ancestors, you have ancestors too, don't you? Ask your ancestors to help!"
At these words, inspiration struck one ghost god. His eyes lit up in sudden realization. "We can't withstand a strike from the [Sky Patrol Magic Treasure]."
"Neither can our sleeping ancestors."
"But... there should be something that can hold out for a while!"
The other Northern Deep ghost gods