Chapter 1497: Brought Despair
Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
About 80% of the 500 attendees were unaware of the Spirit Sea, so Braydon Neal needed to brief them beforehand.
This was also why he arrived at the meeting room early in the morning.
It seemed this meeting would likely span the entire day.
Standing up, Luther Carden made his way to the center of the room.
As the lights dimmed and darkness enveloped the space, a large screen appeared at the center, projecting a map of the Spirit Sea.
Using advanced projection technology, Luther began his presentation.
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“Everyone, this is the map of the Spirit Sea,” he announced.
The sheer expanse of the Spirit Sea, exceeding the bined surface area of the 3,000 ruins, left everyone in awe.
“The Spirit Sea is divided into three regions,” Luther continued. “The outer region, the inner region, and the core region.”
“In these regions, countless factions have thrived for thousands of years. Feel free to explore some of the introduced factions,” he added, sharing the information for everyone to download and peruse.
Instantly, the attendees began delving into the data.
Excited murmurs and gasps filled the room for the next hour.
The information provided by the Hall of Souls was prehensive, detailing the various regions and factions within the Spirit Sea.
Even if one were to spend a lifetime on it, they might not finish reading all the content.
The vastness of the Spirit Sea and the multitude of factions it harbored made for an overwhelming sea of information.
Braydon allotted only an hour for them to review the information.
When the time was up, he instructed Luther to continue.
“The Spirit Sea has existed for ten thousand years. Regarding its origin, aside from a few forces in the core area, more than 90% of the cultivators there are unaware. The Spirit Sea is, in fact, the Nurturing Ground No. 788 established by the human headquarters in the cosmos,” Luther disclosed, unveiling another piece of crucial information.
This revelation included details about the cosmos, acpanied by a galaxy map marked with red regions denoting the space battlefield.
Promptly, someone in the audience grasped the significance.
A ruler from a small western country, with a white cloth draped over his head, rose with a look of shock.
Turning to Braydon, he anxiously inquired, “Your Highness, what does this space battlefield signify?”
Braydon clarified, “The red battlefield on the galaxy map is not far from Earth.”
The realization dawned on many, particularly the 1,000 regimental manders of the Northern Army.
As regimental manders, they couldn’t afford discrepancies in their understanding of the maps.
The entire hall focused on this question, some expressing doubt about the news’ authenticity.
Braydon, with an indifferent gaze, responded, “You’ve long forfeited the privilege of doubting me.”
His statement plunged the room into a profound silence.
Despite the gravity of the news, Braydon’s nonchalant demeanor persisted.
With Braydon’s newfound strength, the longstanding game between the hundred countries and him had ceased.
The dynamics of the game relied on parity in strength, which was now disrupted.
Braydon stood alone, embodying the indomitable spirit of a roaring tiger amidst the ruins.
None could quell his resolve.
The nations had long forfeited any right to challenge him; they were now pelled to submit to his authority.
This was the unvarnished truth.
Despite this, many in the room would rather entertain the notion of Braydon playing mind games than concede to the validity of the information before them.
They had seen the galaxy map—the vast expanse of the space battlefield dwarfed even their own galaxy.
The sheer scale of this super battlefield rendered Earth akin to a pebble in the ocean, incapable of making a significant ripple.
A stifling atmosphere enveloped the meeting room, punctuated by murmurs of despair from leaders of small nations, contemplating the impending apocalypse.
Some, however, still clung to hope.
Turning to Braydon, they sought reassurance, hoping this extraordinary figure could restore their optimism.
Yet, Braydon knew he couldn’t promise too much.
“In times like these, a glimmer of hope exists,” Braydon replied softly, hands clasped behind his back. “I’ll seek refuge with a major power, showcasing my abilities to earn their protection for Earth.”
His words elicited a collective sigh of relief, but Braydon swiftly tempered their optimism.
“Remember, in the unforgiving expanse of the starry sky, nothing es without a price. Can we afford the conditions set by these powerful entities? Even if they offer temporary protection, can they safeguard us indefinitely?
“It’s not just a disgrace to have someone else protect our mother planet. It also means that the survival of our mother planet is entirely in the hands of an outsider!”
Braydon’s words resounded with unwavering resolve. For Earth’s sake, he would humble himself and seek aid from the human race Headquarters in the future.
Yet, with each plea, he would surrender a piece of his dignity.
Cole Colbie, stirred by Braydon’s sentiments, rose abruptly. “Hansworth refuses to depend on others for survival. Entrusting the fate of our race, the very existence of our nation, to outsiders is a disgrace felt by all who stand here!”
But the stark reality of Earth’s vulnerability weighed heavily on some.
“The beings in the cosmos are too formidable,” lamented a few, their faces veiled in despair.
Having perused the information, they understood the staggering odds Earth faced.
It took ten thousand years for a life planet to give birth to a human, requiring countless generations to pave the path forward before producing a divine-level figure.
Reflecting on the history of their nations, spanning merely five millennia, they realized how minuscule Earth’s foundation was pared to the vast expanse of the cosmos.
It was akin to an ant gazing up at a colossal dragon—an insurmountable chasm that induced despair in an instant.
“Wake up,” Luther’s tone was sharp. “The information is normal. Let’s not forget we have the backing of Nurturing Ground No. 788. We won’t need that much time.”
“Indeed,” chimed in another, his eyes glimmering with hope. “With time, His Royal Highness the Northern King will surely ascend to the ranks of a saint, an eminent saint, or even a holy master!”
Braydon interjected softly, “I’ve already reached the pinnacle of the saint realm.”
“What?” Half of those present were taken aback. “Your Highness has only been in the Spirit Sea for a few years, and you are already at the peak of the saint realm? That’s a feat that takes two thousand years!”
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