There was no time for further debate. The moment the three leaders agreed to Jian Yi's suicidal gambit, the fragile alliance fractured into three desperate spearheads, each plunging into the labyrinthine corridors of the Silent Bastion. The five-minute countdown to annihilation had begun, a silent clock ticking in the soul of every combatant.
"The eastern regulator is a straight path, but heavily guarded by battle puppets!" Jian Yi's voice echoed through their short-range communication devices, his tone calm and precise despite the chaos. "Master, your sword arts are the best tool to dismantle them quickly!"
"Understood," Jian Wushuang replied, his voice a blade of cold steel. He led the righteous faction, a blur of silver and gold light, down the designated corridor. The traitors, including the wounded but still fanatical Elder Bai, followed close behind, their faces masks of righteous determination that concealed their treacherous intent.
The corridor opened into a vast, cavernous chamber. In the center, a hundred ten-foot-tall puppets, forged from black iron and animated by resentful spirits, stood in silent, perfect formation. Their eyes glowed with a malevolent red light, and their arms were massive, piston-driven hammers capable of crushing a Golden Core expert into paste.
"A puppet legion," Jian Wushuang noted, his expression grim. "They feel no pain, no fear. Do not engage them head-on. We cut through."
He drew his divine sword, and it sang, a clear, high-pitched note that seemed to purify the very air. "Heavenly Sword Art, First Stance: Celestial River!" he commanded. He did not charge. He simply slashed, and a river of pure, silver sword light, a hundred meters long, erupted from his blade. It was not a chaotic wave of energy, but a perfectly controlled, flowing current of absolute sharpness. The river of light crashed into the puppet legion, and the black iron constructs were not shattered; they were simply... unmade. The puppets in the direct path of the attack were silently and effortlessly sliced into thousands of paper-thin wafers that fell to the floor with a soft metallic clatter.
He had carved a perfect, clean path through the center of the legion. "Go!" he roared to his followers.
The righteous cultivators surged forward, following in his wake. But as they ran, Elder Bai and the other traitors acted. They did not attack their allies directly; that would be too obvious. Instead, they subtly altered their own spiritual energy, sending out discordant pulses that disrupted the flow of the righteous formation. One elder "stumbled," his fall perfectly timed to trip three other cultivators. Another unleashed a "stray" blast of light energy that struck the ceiling, causing a cascade of heavy debris to fall, blocking the path for those in the rear.
"Master, watch out!" Jian Yi's voice suddenly crackled through the communicator. "Elder Bai is behind you! His energy signature is fluctuating!"
Jian Wushuang, who was about to engage the puppets that were now converging on their path, felt a chill crawl up his spine. He spun just in time to see Elder Bai's hand, no longer a claw of demonic energy but wreathed in a subtle, almost invisible formation of gray light, aimed at his back. It was not a killing blow; it was a sealing art, designed to momentarily disrupt his connection to his sword will.
With a roar of fury, Jian Wushuang abandoned his attack on the puppets and brought his sword around in a defensive arc. "Myriad Sword Wall!" A thousand phantoms of his blade appeared, forming a shimmering, impenetrable shield. Elder Bai's sealing art slammed into the wall and dissipated, but the damage was done. Their momentum was broken. The puppet legion, their movements logical and relentless, had now completely surrounded them.
"The southern path is a straight shot, but the corridor is lined with soul-flame traps that feed on demonic energy!" Jian Yi's voice warned. "Your Excellency, your raw power can suppress them, but you must not let them touch you!"
"Hmph! Do you need to tell me how to fight, boy?" the Demonic Emperor roared in response, but a flicker of caution entered his eyes. He led his demonic host, a tide of black and red energy, down the southern corridor. The walls were, as the boy had said, lined with thousands of small holes from which a pale, ghostly white fire seeped, creating a curtain of soul-devouring flame.
"Pathetic tricks!" the Emperor bellowed. He did not try to dodge. He simply unleashed his own aura, a crushing, tyrannical pressure that was the embodiment of his will. "Emperor's Dominion!" The pale soul-flames, which would have instantly incinerated a lesser demon, were physically pushed back by the sheer force of his presence, creating a safe corridor in the center of the tunnel of fire.
"Forward!" he commanded, his arrogance on full display.
As his forces charged, the traitors within his own ranks, a group of cultivators from a vassal demonic sect, made their move. Their sabotage was as direct and brutal as their leader. As the Demonic Emperor was focused on suppressing the flames ahead, two of the traitorous sect masters lunged, their blades coated in a rare, flesh-melting poison, stabbing not at the Emperor himself, but at his unguarded generals.
Two of his most loyal commanders cried out in pain as the poisoned blades found their mark, their demonic bodies instantly beginning to dissolve. The betrayal caused a moment of chaos in the demonic ranks, and the Emperor's concentration wavered for a split second.
It was all the traps needed. The suppressed soul-flames roared back to life, engulfing the entire corridor.
"Lord Sovereign," Jian Yi's voice was calm and even. "The northern path is a maze of spatial arrays and illusions. Your mastery of the void is our only way through. Be wary of the nexus points; they are unstable."
"The boy is surprisingly well-informed," the Void Sovereign hissed to his subordinates as they navigated the shimmering, disorienting corridor. The walls seemed to melt and reform with every step, the floor occasionally dropping away to reveal a swirling vortex of pure chaos. But to the Sovereign, this was his natural element. He moved with a chilling grace, his hand occasionally reaching out to tap a section of empty air, causing a deadly illusion to shatter or a hidden spatial tear to seal itself.
The traitors on his team, led by the Oracle of the Immortal Alliance, were the most subtle of all. She did not need to act directly. She was a being of fate, and her sabotage was a gentle, almost imperceptible nudge on the threads of reality. She subtly altered the probability of a spatial array malfunctioning, causing a section of the corridor to collapse and separate the Sovereign from his main force.
The Void Sovereign found himself isolated, standing in a small, stable pocket of space, while his subordinates were trapped in a chaotic maze behind him. And before him, a new figure materialized. It was the Silent Scholar, the commander of the Bastion, a Heavenly Immortal whose power was equal to his own.
"Sovereign," the Scholar said with a calm, academic smile. "An unexpected pleasure. The Lord Oracle sends her regards. She felt it was time the Abyssal Court's influence in this new era was... pruned."
The Void Sovereign looked at the calm, confident scholar, then at the chaotic maze behind him, and knew he had been played not just by the host of the banquet, but by his own supposed allies. A cold, silent fury, the fury of a master schemer who has been out-schemed, began to burn in the depths of his soul.
On the deck of the Eternal Horizon, Ao Xian watched the three-front disaster unfold with the keen interest of a master Go player observing a complex board.
"They are all trapped," General Ying stated, his voice a flat, professional assessment. "The righteous faction is bogged down by puppets, the demonic faction is being consumed by soul-flames, and the Abyssal Court's leader is facing a duel he cannot win in time. The plan has failed."
"The plan has not failed," Ao Xian corrected, a faint smile on his lips. "It has merely entered its next phase." He looked at the celestial mirror, his gaze focused on the young disciple, Jian Yi, who was still on the main fleet's flagship, his face pale as he listened to the desperate reports from the three teams. "The leaders have been tested and found wanting. Now... it is the protagonist's turn to take the stage."