The Long River was blood-red.
Struggling human hands emerged from the thick blood, reaching upward with all their might, only to be suddenly dragged down by something. Then other hands reached up.
A mass of wronged souls desperately tugged at those above them, trampling them down in an attempt to glimpse a sliver of light themselves.
But a thin film of blood always covered them. Even if they broke through the river's surface, they could not actually see anything.
Their efforts yielded nothing, and resentment multiplied at a frenzied pace.
Hatred, malice, fear, greed...
All manner of negative emotions spread across the river like a poison with no antidote. Even the Half-Kings could not help being affected, their faces turning deathly pale.
The wronged souls' wails burrowed into their ears like insects.
Merely standing above the river required them to expend tremendous mental effort to resist the invading curses.
By comparison, the Son of the River God's earlier Ghost Domain was like an unfinished product.
The River God had the appearance of a middle-aged man. Dragons and phoenixes adorned his scarlet ancient official's robes, whose rank was outrageously high. His official headgear and splendid robes showed that he had held a lofty position in life.
"River God, you dare act? Aren't you afraid of destroying the Ghost-Sacrificing Lineage's thousand-year foundation in a single day?"
The King of the Metropolis spoke coldly.
The Blood-Colored Flame Purgatory above his head had solidified until it was almost real, and an unimaginably powerful aura surged through him. Yet he was still far inferior to the River God.
The River God looked over and frowned slightly.
The other party was right. Taking action was, in fact, a gamble.
During this calamity of the Nine Provinces, everyone had tacitly agreed that only those below King-Level would