The weak are prey to the strong; this has always been the case since ancient times.

Wang Hao tapped his fingers on the table, his face revealing nothing.

Half an incense stick later, all the intelligence was gathered before him, piecing together a complete picture.

The Sixteen Sacred Lands of the Central Continent, upon learning that the Eastern Wastelands had annexed the Dark City, had called an emergency meeting.

At the meeting, Li Tianxing, the Sacred Lord of the Crimson Sky Sacred Land, was the first to jump up. With tears streaming down his face, he railed against Wang Hao, accusing him of "massacring Central Continent cultivators" on Heavenly Void Peak, "insulting the dignity of the Sacred Lands," and "harboring treacherous intentions to swallow up the Central Continent."

The other fifteen Sacred Lands had been hesitant at first, but the news of Wang Hao annexing the Dark City became the straw that broke the camel's back.

The Dark City controlled seven major spirit stone veins in the southern part of the continent, producing twelve billion spirit stones annually—over thirty percent of the continent's total output. If these veins fell into Wang Hao's hands, the Eastern Wastelands' national power would swell within three years to a level capable of rivaling the Central Continent.

This was something the Sixteen Sacred Lands could never tolerate.

So the Sacred Land Edict was issued.

"Forty Martial Gods."

Ghost Granny’s withered, chicken-claw-like fingers carved deep grooves into the stone armrest. Her voice was as harsh as sandpaper scraping stone.

She had lived for four thousand eight hundred years and witnessed countless grand scenes, but this time, even her fingers were trembling.

"The Sixteen Sacred Lands each awakened half of their slumbering ancestors. The Crimson Sky Sacred Land contributed four, Heaven Sword Mountain three, Ten Thousand Methods Sacred Sect four, Danxia Sacred Land three, Azure Paradise Palace two, Supreme Void Temple three, Starry Hall three, Profound Heaven Sect two, Ethereal Peak two, Star Picking Tower two, Dao Asking Cliff two, Eternal Life Hall two, Purple Sky Palace two, Kunwu Mountain two, Blazing Flame Hall two, and Burial Heaven Valley two—forty total."

"Among them are seven late-stage Martial Gods, twelve mid-stage Martial Gods, and twenty-one early-stage Martial Gods. The leader is Li Cangming of the Crimson Sky Sacred Land's Supreme Elder—a peak Martial God realm cultivator, half-step Transcendent."

The moment the words "half-step Transcendent" were spoken, even the Demon Lord's pitch-black, vortex-like eyes violently rippled.

Half-step Transcendent—that was the legendary realm beyond the Martial God level.

In the seven thousand years of the continent's history, only three people had ever reached the half-step Transcendent stage: the first Dragon Emperor of the demon clan, the first Sacred Lord of the Heavenly Dao Sect (which had been wiped out in the Central Continent), and a rogue cultivator who had long since vanished without a trace.

All three were already legendary beings, and no one knew whether they were still alive.

Half-step Transcendent meant that Li Cangming's cultivation base was infinitely close to quasi-sage, only a single step away from that threshold.

"Where are they now?" Wang Hao asked.

Before his voice faded, a terrifyingly oppressive pressure bore down from the eastern horizon.

It wasn't just one pressure—it was forty pressures stacked together, like forty towering mountains crashing down from the sky all at once.

Before the pressure even fully descended, the ground on the outskirts of the Dark City began to crack. Fine fissures, like a spiderweb, spread from the edge of the volcano toward every direction, with the farthest crack extending over thirty miles.

The Eternal Night Barrier let out a strained hum. Its deep green runes flickered wildly, and the entire light shield trembled violently.

The Demon Lord's face changed color for the first time ever.

He had gone into seclusion for three hundred years, attempting to break through to a higher realm. Although he had failed, he considered himself the strongest city lord in the Dark City's seven-thousand-year history.

But facing this pressure, he even felt like an ant facing a dragon.

"Here they come," he said.

No sooner had the two words left his mouth than an ancient, dignified voice rolled down from the sky. Each character struck the Eternal Night Barrier like a thousand-pound hammer.

"Where is the City Lord of the Dark City? The Sacred Land Edict has arrived. Come forth and receive it."

The moment the voice fell, the Eternal Night Barrier violently trembled, and the deep green runes on the light shield's surface began to shatter on a large scale.

Just the soundwaves from that first sentence were enough to make this city-wide barrier, which had stood for seven thousand years, unable to bear the strain.

The three million residents of the Dark City looked up simultaneously.

They witnessed a scene they would never forget.

On the eastern horizon, forty figures stood in midair.

Every single one of them was surrounded by terrifyingly intense aura fluctuations. The combined fluctuations of these forty individuals dyed the entire eastern sky a suffocating kaleidoscope of colors.

At the forefront was an elder in a crimson robe, white-haired but with a face like jade, a slender figure, and eyes ablaze with blood-red flames.

He was Li Cangming—the Supreme Elder of the Crimson Sky Sacred Land and the oldest living peak Martial God realm cultivator on the continent.

Behind him stood thirty-nine others, each with a presence no weaker than Amber.

Among them, seven emanated especially terrifying energies—those were seven late-stage Martial God ancestors, each an ancient monster who had lived over four thousand years.

Behind the forty stood eight hundred Ethereal Realm experts.

The eight hundred were arranged into eight square formations. At the eye of each formation hung a sinister artifact ranked among the top one hundred, their auras linked together, forming a torrent of power capable of crushing everything in its path.

The thirty thousand disciples deployed on the Dark City's outer defensive lines couldn't even remain steady under that pressure.

The archers on the watchtowers trembled so badly they couldn't draw their bowstrings, and their spirit-breaking arrows fell to the ground.

A third of the traps set across the ground were triggered by the pressure itself. Various poison traps and thunderbolt traps detonated on their own without being touched, instead injuring quite a few of the Dark City's disciples.

This wasn't a battle.

This was a natural disaster.

Wang Hao walked out of the council hall and stood on the highest watchtower of the Dark City, looking up at the forty figures in the eastern sky.

His imperial robe whipped in the violent winds stirred up by the aura. The Abyss-Suppressing Pagoda above his head rotated slowly, its silver-white lightning burning brighter than usual—it was excited.

The Sovereign Sword at his waist also trembled faintly. A subtle hum came from the scabbard, like someone who had been locked away for a long time finally catching the scent of blood and could no longer wait to be drawn.

Wang Hao looked at the terrifying lineup of forty Martial Gods and eight hundred Ethereal Realm cultivators, stared for a long time, and then said one sentence.

"Damn it. These old bastards really do think highly of Your Majesty."

"Since they've come all this way, it'd be rude not to slaughter a few before going back."

The Sovereign Sword let out a soft chuckle only Wang Hao could hear—a deep, raspy sound that carried a spine-chilling delight.

"Wang Hao, your heartbeat is speeding up."

"I know."

"But it's not fear."

"Of course it's not fear." The Sovereign Sword's voice brimmed with excitement. "Forty Martial Gods, eight hundred Ethereal Realm beasts—this lineup is even grander than the one at Heavenly Void Peak. Last time you cleaved eight. How many do you feel like cleaving this time?"

"Cleave your head," Wang Hao cursed inwardly.

"Your Majesty hasn't gotten cocky enough to think he can fight forty Martial Gods alone. These old immortals have others to deal with them. The real question now is—how do we spin this situation."

He took a deep breath, and the expression on his face shifted rapidly—from solemnity to detachment, from detachment to ease, and finally settling on that trademark dazzling smile.

“Esteemed seniors.” He raised his head and clasped his hands toward the forty Martial Gods in the sky. His voice was not loud, but every word reached everyone’s ears clearly. “Traveling from afar—Your Emperor, this Emperor, failed to welcome you properly. My apologies. How about coming down for a cup of tea first?”

Li Cangming looked down at him, his blood-red fire-lit eyes devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

“You are Wang Hao?”

“The very one.” Wang Hao pointed at the thirty-nine Martial Gods and eight hundred Imperial Flight Realm cultivators behind Li Cangming. “Senior Li has brought so many people—surely not just for tea? Your Emperor’s tea supply is limited; there might not be enough for forty seniors.”

Li Cangming ignored his banter and directly read the Holy Land decree.

“Joint decree from the Sixteen Holy Lands of the Central Continent—Wang Hao of the Eastern Wasteland has unlawfully annexed the Dark City, infringed upon the interests of the Central Continent, and disrupted the balance of the continent. You are ordered to withdraw from the Dark City within three days, return all seized assets, cripple your own cultivation, and report to the Central Continent to confess your crimes. Should you fail to comply within the deadline, the Sixteen Holy Lands will unite to launch a punitive campaign. At that time, the Great Xia Dynasty in the Eastern Wasteland will be razed to the ground, leaving no blade of grass behind, and a million corpses will litter the land.”

As his voice fell, the Eternal Night Sky Barrier trembled violently once more. The eight hundred Imperial Flight Realm cultivators simultaneously released their Qi aura, and the forty Martial Gods joined forces to suppress their pressure. The ground outside the Dark City sank by three feet under the weight, and among the 300,000 outer disciples, at least fifty thousand collapsed on the spot, foaming at the mouth.

On the watchtower, Wang Hao’s smile remained radiant, but his pupils contracted slightly.

Cripple your own cultivation and report to the Central Continent to confess your crimes.

When those words entered his ears, the fingers gripping the Heavenly Emperor Sword unconsciously tightened a fraction.

The hum in the scabbard grew louder, the Heavenly Emperor Sword’s mood clearly turning violent.

“Wang Hao.” The sword’s voice rang in his mind, no longer teasing but laced with killing intent. “Let me out.”

“Your Emperor has his own measures.”

“That old bastard wants you to cripple yourself.”

“Your Emperor heard him.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Let him keep talking?” The sword’s body trembled violently in its scabbard. “I didn’t get enough last time. This time, I’ll make up for it with these forty old geezers. Let me out, and I promise to leave eight alive—no, four.”

Wang Hao ignored it.

He released the hilt of the Heavenly Emperor Sword, clasped his hands behind his back, raised his head to look at Li Cangming, and kept his smile unchanged. “Senior Li, Your Emperor has a few questions to ask.”

“Speak.”

“First, when did the Dark City become the Central Continent’s territory? Your Emperor has checked all the records from the past seven thousand years. The Dark City never paid tribute to the Sixteen Holy Lands of the Central Continent, and the Eight Alliance never accepted Central Continent rule. Since it’s not Central Continent territory, how does my annexation of the Dark City infringe on Central Continent interests?”

“Second, Senior Li speaks of ‘disrupting the balance of the continent’—what balance? The Sixteen Holy Lands of the Central lording over all other forces on the continent—that is balance? You sixteen families take more than sixty percent of the continent’s spiritual stone resources—that is balance?”

“Third—” He paused, and the warmth in his smile suddenly dropped. “Since Your Emperor ascended the throne, I have never taken the initiative to attack the Central Continent. The Shadow Guards ambushed me at the Blackwind Valley—the Dark City struck first. I have been the victim from start to finish. Now you forty old bastards come running over to demand that Your Emperor ‘cripple his own cultivation’—Senior Li, where is the face of your Sixteen Holy Lands?”

In the sky above the watchtower, Li Cangming’s blood-red fire-lit eyes narrowed slightly.

He did not answer Wang Hao’s questions, only spoke a single sentence flatly: “The weak are prey to the strong—it has always been so. You are weak, so you deserve to die. Do you need a reason?”

The words were spoken plainly, but each one carried a sense of ingrained arrogance.

That arrogance was not deliberate—it was etched into their bones. It was the pride the Sixteen Holy Lands of the Central Continent had naturally cultivated after dominating this continent for seven thousand years.

In their eyes, the Eastern Wasteland was nothing but barren land, and Wang Hao was merely a petty emperor who had stumbled into breaking through to the Martial God realm. His annexation of the Dark City was like an ant dragging away a piece of meat that belonged to a lion—the lion would not reason with the ant; it would just crush it underfoot.

Wang Hao listened and nodded.

“Understood,” he said.

Then he did something no one expected.

He turned around and walked back into the main hall, waving at Yue Ji and the Demon Lord. “Come in. Your Emperor has something to discuss with you.”

The gazes of forty-three Martial Gods fell on him simultaneously, but he walked away calmly and unhurriedly, as if the forty Martial Gods and eight hundred Imperial Flight Realm cultivators in the sky were merely part of the passing scenery.

A flicker of surprise passed through Li Cangming’s blood-red fire-lit eyes.

He had lived for seven thousand years and had seen countless people collapse, beg, go mad, or fight to the death before the Holy Land decree—but never had anyone listened to the decree and then turned away with an unchanged expression like Wang Hao.

This was not courage.

This was confidence.

“Elder Li.” Jian Wuchen, the Supreme Elder of Heavenly Sword Mountain, flew on his sword to Li Cangming’s side. His lifebound mystic weapon was a flying sword ranked thirty-first, its blade flowing with a cold, moonlight-like gleam. “This young emperor is strange. At the Heavenly Void Peak, he barely broke through to the Martial God realm yet held his own against eight Martial Gods. We’d better—”

“No matter,” Li Cangming cut him off. “Give him three days. If he hasn’t withdrawn by then, raze the city.”

His voice was still flat, but the word “raze” came out of his mouth as naturally as discussing what to have for dinner.

Jian Wuchen opened his mouth, but ultimately withdrew to his position.