The site of the first negotiation was located in a building within the industrial zone, designed sowhat like a Cultivation Room, without any windows, just a single door at the entrance. The gray-white concrete was unadorned, brutally supporting every part of the structure, accompanied by the winter snow landscape, giving a sense of oppressive solemnity.
Bologue’s sense of familiarity was spot-on; the Order Bureau had temporarily established a simple Void Realm here, modeled after a Cultivation Room, reinforced with a "Seal," strengthening the entire building.
Recalling his final exam during his internship, the skirmish with the Blade-Biting Wolf took place in such a building. It seed likely that what he was seeing now was not the building’s original form, but rather that it was distorted by the power of the Void Realm.
The effect was also obvious; now the building resembled a fortress rising from the ground. Even if an accident were to occur, even if an enemy of Defender strength were to appear, they could hold this place until reinforcents arrived.
Bologue felt that the likelihood of an accident was low. For the first negotiation to proceed smoothly, several task groups and nurous Condensers of various tiers had appeared here, unless an entire legion ca, Bologue believed no one could disrupt any process.
Having arrived at the destination, there was still so ti before the negotiations began. The field staff dispersed, heading to their respective positions, establishing several Heart Core Nets, gathering as task groups.
Bologue, as required by work, wandered aimlessly within the industrial zone with Palr.
Irrelevant individuals had been cleared away in advance, and they had no need to hide their identities as Condensers. The Ether was stirring within, ready to burst forth at any mont, distorting the substance of reality.
Bologue said, "You seem quite tense."
"Do I?"
Compared to Bologue’s fully ard appearance, Palr looked much more relaxed. His hands were in his pockets, wandering as if shopping. However, inside his pocket, he tightly held Storm Feather, not loosening his grip for a mont.
Bologue looked at Palr with a cold gaze, Palr awkwardly smiled, "Well, I am a bit tense."
"Honestly, I think dealing with Devils is better than this job right now."
Palr complained, "Devils can’t interfere with reality; at most, they’ll tell you aningless nonsense, making you uneasy.
But the King’s Secret Sword companions aren’t the sa; who knows what they’re thinking? They might be plotting another Supernatural war, and all this is just a pretext."
During the outbreak of the secret war, Palr was trained and educated, but that didn’t an he hadn’t felt the horror of the Supernatural war.
As one of the founding families of the Order Bureau, the Clarks had many mbers within, including several people Palr was familiar with from his childhood. After the secret war, Palr saw them again in the family graveyard at Wind Source Highlands.
The prior Extraordinary Disasters, no matter how expansive, at most destroyed several cities. But if these two powerful forces reignited the fires of war, it would encompass the destruction of many nations.
Palr was ready for battle but not prepared for war.
Palr retorted, "Aren’t you tense?"
"I’m not tense," Bologue shook his head, "I’m the last surviving elder soldier now."
War, Bologue’s old friend, stood in stark contrast to Palr, showing no worry about its arrival. Instead, Bologue was concerned about not having enough capacity to contribute his value during the war.
Ti ticked slowly forward, as personnel on both sides began to arrive, from afar, Bologue saw them, their postures were easily recognizable.
They didn’t imdiately enter the building, but were intercepted by the Sixth Group. Bologue saw them seemingly conversing, everything proceeding according to plan.
In an instant when Bologue shifted his gaze, he noticed sothing.
"Did you feel it, Palr?"
"What?"
Besides being sowhat tense, Palr didn’t feel anything abnormal, unaware of what Bologue was referring to.
Bologue sighed; though both were debtors, their connections with the Devils differed. Palr was a regular debtor to the Crimson Queen; whereas Bologue, chosen by the Astronaut, felt contrasted in their perceptions of the Devils.
The cold winter breeze carried the scent of the Devils, Bologue detected the nauseating aroma.
"I can sense the Devil’s presence," Bologue’s voice echoed within the Heart Core Net, "These lunatics still joined in; the specifics are unclear, I’m investigating."
Bologue’s ssage spread swiftly, Palr’s expression grew solemn, decisively drawing Storm Feather from his pocket, advancing alongside Bologue.
"No anomalies found in Zone 1."
"No anomalies found in Zone 2."
"..."
Reports echoed in the Heart Core Net, after Bologue issued the warning, field staff stationed in other locations kindly inspected the surroundings, but found nothing amiss.
The industrial zone is still under the absolute control of the Order Bureau, with the main force of the King’s Secret Sword positioned outside the zone. Only a few negotiators have entered the industrial zone.
Bologue followed his intuition and walked quickly toward the sealed building, imagining one possibility after another.
Devils cannot interfere with reality; they can only send driven mortals to act.
Demons? That’s impossible. The decaying scent of demons cannot be hidden from anyone and would only lead to death on the spot. So, is there another debtor in action here?
Bologue was certain of the purity of the Order Bureau, and thus, the unknown debtor should co from the King’s Secret Sword.
No, that’s not right.
To show sincerity and avoid provoking the Order Bureau, the current negotiation team of the King’s Secret Sword consists of ordinary people, only a few Condensers follow, and their list was cross-checked a few days ago. With the capabilities of the Order Bureau, it’s impossible not to have detected the presence of a debtor.
So is soone being seduced by the devil, though not giving up his soul, yet fulfilling so dark purpose on behalf of the devil?
All kinds of thoughts roared through Bologue’s mind; he felt like a bomb disposal expert with a deadly bomb hidden within this vast industrial zone, ready to explode at any mont.
A sharp pain assaulted Bologue’s mind, the intense agony even affecting Aimou, while the golden halo in Bologue’s eyes swiftly flickered.
The feeling of the umbilical cord reappeared, more intense than ever before.
Sothing was about to happen.
Thinking this, Bologue felt as if his body was uncontrolled, tilting his head back to gaze at the pale sky overhead.
A hazy figure appeared atop the gray-white building, gazing down at everyone.
"What a mockery of destiny."
Gray looked at the Order Bureau and the King’s Secret Sword about to negotiate, and thinking of what he was about to do, felt a great irony.
Sotis, Gray felt he no longer recognized this world; it had beco unfamiliar and insane. He could neither accept such a world nor convince himself, escaping as he let his will descend, living like a walking corpse.
"Damn it, how did he appear here!"
Others noticed Gray’s presence too, with roars echoing within the Heart Core Net.
The Order Bureau had completely sealed the area. Even Red Dog would struggle to hide its trail attempting infiltration, but Gray appeared atop the building silently.
Gray looked blankly at the field staff below, raising the blood-red blade in his hand. Sharp thorns extended from the hilt, piercing Gray’s palm.
Blood didn’t drip; Blood Transfer Sword seed like a living entity, greedily devouring Gray’s blood, penetrating beneath his flesh.
Even enduring piercing pain, Gray remained indifferent because a corpse feels no pain.
Relying on the Secret Sword that could tear through paths, Gray silently reached the depths of the industrial zone and now he was to bring more people over.
Sounds absurd; after all, Blood Transfer Sword couldn’t achieve such a feat, but now things were different; Gray was blessed.
Eccentric, frenzied powers grew within Gray, along with ether and blood injected into the Blood Transfer Sword, commanding it to break limits to achieve unattainable powers.
To break the shackles, surpass limits.
Blessing·Threshold Limit.
Gray swung the sword forward into the air; under the blessing, the Blood Transfer Sword briefly broke free from its forr constraints, its power multiplied, tearing a passage out of thin air.
Like splashing paint on a canvas, interwoven scarlet marks froze in midair. Its edges like jagged teeth, the scarlet marks turned into wounds of the passage, instantly rupturing, emitting coagulating strange blood gas.
"Transaction complete."
Gray whispered as he stepped into the scarlet wound, disappearing.
The uproarious roars erged from the scarlet wound; the defense capabilities of the industrial zone, to tear a breach here, would require at least a legion strength.
The Shadow King needed such power, so the Tyrant brought him a legion.
The Silent Legion silently descended onto the battlefield.
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