The fine, harmless dust that was once the Heavenly Sword Sect's most sacred mountain settled in the minds of the guests, a suffocating reminder of their own fragility. Jian Wushuang remained standing, his face a pale, bloodless mask of horror. He was not just looking at the empty space where the projection had been; he was seeing the faces of his disciples, the legacy of his ancestors, all resting in the palm of the man who sat before him. The crack in his Dao Heart widened, and the cold, clear light of his sword will was replaced by a profound, terrifying uncertainty.
Ao Xian watched Jian Wushuang's reaction with a placid expression, then sighed with a hint of theatrical disappointment. "How messy," he commented to the silent hall. "Destroying things is so crude. It leaves behind such an unsightly pile of dust. A lesson should be elegant, a complete circle."
He raised his hand again, not with a snap, but with a slow, deliberate gesture, as if rewinding a celestial scroll.
On the projection, the scene of the dissipating dust cloud reversed. Every single particle, from the largest boulder to the finest grain of sand, stopped its descent and began to fly upwards. The dust storm coalesced, the shattered rocks re-formed, and the mountain rebuilt itself from the top down, a perfect, impossible reversal of time. The process was silent, smooth, and utterly defied every law of reality the guests had ever known. Within ten seconds, the sacred mountain of the Heavenly Sword Sect stood tall and proud once more, exactly as it had been moments before, not a single stone out of place. The disciples on the ground, who had been staring in stunned silence, simply blinked, a few seconds of their memory wiped clean, leaving only a lingering, inexplicable sense of awe and a profound feeling that they had just witnessed a miracle.
The projection vanished.
If the destruction of the mountain had been a display of terrifying power, its perfect restoration was something else entirely. It was a demonstration of absolute, conceptual control. It was the power not to break the rules, but to rewrite them.
Jian Wushuang collapsed back into his chair, his body trembling. The last vestiges of his pride, his identity as a supreme swordsman, shattered completely. What was a sword against a being who could command time itself? He finally understood. He was not in the presence of a powerful cultivator. He was in the presence of a god.
Ao Xian's pleasant smile did not waver as he surveyed the room of silent, terrified powerhouses. "Now that we have established a baseline for our discussion," he said, his tone brisk and business-like, "let us discuss the future."
He steepled his fingers, his gaze sweeping across the hall. "The Nether-Tide rises. The Abyssal Court and the Immortal Alliance, ancient cancers that have been festering in the dark for eons, believe their time has come. They will use this era of chaos to ignite a war that will consume your realms, your sects, and your empires. They will promise power to some, liberation to others, but their only true goal is to overturn the current order and feast upon the ruins."
The Void Sovereign, who had been forced to his knees and then to a chair, radiated a cold, silent fury, his handsome face a mask of pure hatred. The Oracle of the Immortal Alliance remained perfectly still, her featureless white mask betraying nothing, but the illusory light of her form seemed to dim for a fraction of a second.
"This is, of course, unacceptable," Ao Xian continued, as if discussing a minor breach of etiquette. "Such a large-scale, uncoordinated conflict is messy, inefficient, and will be a great inconvenience to me. Therefore, a new order is required. A new set of rules."
He leaned forward, his calm, pleasant voice carrying a weight that was heavier than any mountain. "I am forming a new alliance. The Myriad Realms Alliance. Its purpose will be to manage the coming chaos, to hunt down the remnants of these hidden factions, and to ensure a... smoother transition into this new era. And I," he paused, letting his gaze linger on each and every one of them, "will be its leader."
The sheer, unadulterated arrogance of the declaration was breathtaking. He was not asking for a vote. He was not seeking a consensus. He was stating a fact.
The Demonic Emperor, a being whose entire existence was defined by his own tyrannical rule, felt an instinctive urge to roar in defiance. But the image of the Void Sovereign's shattered form, and the memory of the mountain un-making itself, was burned into his mind. He looked at the slice of Qilin meat still on his plate, a treasure that could buy him a hundred years of loyal service, and he made a pragmatic calculation. He was the first to act. He stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow, and gave a stiff, formal bow. "The Ashen Devil Empire has long grown tired of the shadows that lurk in the dark," he said, his voice a low rumble. "We will follow Lord Ao Xian's lead in this matter."
His capitulation sent a ripple of shock through the righteous faction. The Great Khan, seeing his old rival submit, quickly followed suit, not wanting to be left behind. One by one, the demonic and unaligned leaders, beings of pure self-interest, began to stand and pledge their allegiance, their voices a chorus of reluctant, fearful submission.
Only the righteous faction, led by Jian Wushuang, and the representatives of the hidden factions remained silent.
"Sect Master Jian," Ao Xian said, his voice soft. "You seem hesitant."
Jian Wushuang finally lowered himself back into his chair, his movements stiff. "Lord Ao Xian," he said, his voice raspy. "My Heavenly Sword Sect has always stood for the righteous path. We fight to protect the innocent, to uphold the balance of the heavens. To join an alliance with... them," he gestured to the Demonic Emperor, "is a violation of our principles."
"Principles are a wonderful thing, Sect Master," Ao Xian replied, his smile never faltering. "But they are a luxury one can only afford from a position of strength. Your principles did not protect your mountain. They will not protect your disciples when the Abyssal Court decides your realm is a suitable sacrifice to awaken one of their sleeping gods."
He then looked at the Matriarch of the Nine Poisons School, who was seated next to Jian Wushuang, a cruel irony that was not lost on either of them. "Matriarch, your Nine Poisons School has a long and storied history of... creative neutrality. Surely you see the benefits of being on the winning side of a conflict before it even begins?"
The Matriarch, a woman who had survived for millennia by playing the great powers against each other, gave a sultry, calculating smile. "Lord Ao Xian's reasoning is, as always, flawless. My school has always been a proponent of... stability." She raised her glass in a toast. "We will, of course, support the Alliance."
Her capitulation was the final blow. Jian Wushuang looked around the room, at the united front of demonic cultivators and pragmatic neutrals, and he knew he was cornered. He was alone. With a heavy heart, he stood and gave a stiff bow. "The Heavenly Sword Sect will join the Alliance."
Ao Xian clapped his hands lightly, a gesture of finality. "Excellent! Now that we are all on the same page, our first order of business." He waved a hand, and the celestial mirror appeared in the center of the hall. It showed a desolate, windswept moon, orbiting a dying, black sun in a forgotten corner of the lower realms. Upon the moon was a fortress, built from a strange, non-reflective black stone.
"This is the 'Silent Bastion'," Ao Xian announced. "A secret stronghold of the Immortal Alliance. In three days' time, a meeting will be held there. Several of their key strategists will be present to plan the first wave of incursions into your territories."
The Oracle's form flickered violently. The information was perfect, precise, and absolutely secret. To have it exposed so casually was a devastating blow.
"Your first task, as the new Myriad Realms Alliance," Ao Xian continued, a cheerful, predatory gleam in his eyes, "is to form a joint task force. Sect Master Jian, you will lead the righteous cultivators. Demonic Emperor, you will lead the demonic cultivators. You will work together, travel to the Silent Bastion, and you will eliminate every living thing within it. Consider it a... team-building exercise."
The Demonic Emperor and Jian Wushuang stared at each other, their expressions a mixture of pure, unadulterated hatred and grim, unwilling acceptance.
"The details of the stronghold's defenses and the attendees of the meeting are being sent to your minds as we speak," Ao Xian said. "I expect a full report of your success upon your return." He stood up, signaling the end of the banquet. "Thank you all for coming. It has been a most productive evening."
He turned and walked back into the side chamber, his maids following, leaving the most powerful beings of a thousand realms sitting in a stunned, heavy silence. They had arrived as kings, emperors, and masters of their own domains. They would leave as generals in an army they had been forced to join, sent to fight a war on the terms of a man whose power they could not even begin to fathom. The game had begun, and they were no longer just pieces on the board. They were the weapons.