427: Chapter 427: Handling the Aftermath, the Alliance Becomes More Vigilant

The gray mist dispersed, and sunlight leaked through the cracks in the clouds, shining on the bronze door knockers of the Alliance Main Hall and casting a long, slanted shadow.

The sound of mecha treads grinding over stone steps approached from a distance, finally stopping at the square in front of the hall.

Chen Wuwang leaped down from the eye of wuwang cockpit. Small electric arcs still flickered from the cracks in his left arm armor, and his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flashed with a faint red light, as if it hadn't fully cooled down.

He didn't spare a glance at his surroundings and headed straight into the hall.

Spirit lamps had long since been lit within the hall, where representatives of the twelve clans were gathered. An old Taoist from the Chuanyun Sect stood at the front leaning on a cane, a female Cultivator from the Leiyin Pavilion had her brows tightly furrowed, a burly man from the Cangling Clan stood silently with his arms crossed, and the envoy from the West Desert Sand Clan frequently glanced toward the entrance.

"He's here," someone whispered.

Chen Wuwang walked straight to the main seat but did not sit; he simply placed a rune fragment in the center of the Formation Plate.

"Is everyone here?" His voice was not loud, but every word was clear. "Then I won't beat around the bush."

"In last night's battle in the valley, we captured a prisoner." He paused, scanning the room. "Before he died, he said one thing—'Cthulhu'."

The words fell, and the hall went silent for two breaths.

Then, the old Taoist from the Chuanyun Sect frowned. "Cthulhu? Which Sect or School does this evil Cultivator belong to? A newly established cult in the Northern Region?"

"It's not a Sect," Chen Wuwang shook his head. "It's a name. Something you won't believe in."

"Then what do you want us to believe?" the female Cultivator from the Leiyin Pavilion asked coldly. "A strange name blurted out by a dead man? Or a memory fragment seen only by you? Head of the Chen Family, where is the evidence?"

Chen Wuwang didn't answer; he simply raised his right hand, and a Jade Slip appeared in his palm.

With a tap of his finger, the Jade Slip floated up. The moment spiritual energy was injected, a projection appeared in the center of the Main Hall—

A wasteland, a black altar, and twisted star tracks.

A dozen or so black-robed figures knelt on the ground chanting, their voices overlapping into an inhuman frequency.

A mass of writhing black mist hung above the center of the altar. Within the mist, a giant eye slowly opened; it had no pupil, only layer upon layer of ring-like patterns, as if the abyss itself were staring.

"This is what they worship," Chen Wuwang lowered his voice. "And the existence they are willing to die for."

The image flashed to another scene—a caravan passing through Dry Bone Valley when a man suddenly tore open his own chest, ripped out his heart, and hurled it toward the ground, screaming: "Light-Erosion is eternal! My Lord shall awaken!"

Another change—an underground secret room where a damaged mecha was embedded into biological tissue, its surface showing alloy patterns identical to the rebel Puppets from three years ago.

Finally, there was a silent vibration.

It wasn't something hearing could capture, but a sense of pressure acting directly on consciousness, as if something were peering in from the end of the Universe.

The projection went out.

Three young Disciples retched on the spot, and one fainted directly to the ground, caught by a nearby companion.

"This... this is an illusion!" The burly man from the Cangling Clan stood up abruptly. "Anyone could forge a memory image! Head of the Chen Family, are you perhaps trying to make a fuss about this to seize power?"

"If I wanted to seize power, why would I wait until now?" Chen Wuwang sneered. "I don't blame you for not believing in gods. But you must believe in people—believe in those who are willing to sacrifice everything for this 'Unspeakable One'."

He pointed at the rune fragment on the Formation Plate. "They build altars, blow up the Artifact Refining Workshop, and incite the Zhao Village—not for territory or resources, but to make this thing open its eye.

And as long as it takes one look, the entire Cultivation World will have to kneel to welcome its new god."

"Absurd!" The envoy from the West Desert Sand Clan slapped the table. "If such a thing truly existed, why has no one seen it for three thousand years? Why is there no record in any past records?"

"Because it isn't in the records," Chen Wuwang's voice sank.

"It is in the cracks, in dreams, in the places you think are just the gibberish of madmen. It doesn't spread through Spells; it relies on 'whispers'—"

A resonance that can penetrate space and corrode the will. What you are hearing now might just be its afterglow."

After he spoke, he swiped his finger, activating the Formation Plate.

The rune fragment vibrated slightly, releasing an extremely faint low-frequency wave.

Buzz—

Every metal object in the hall hummed in synchronization. Even the hanging bronze lamps rippled with wave-like patterns, and the air seemed to twist for a moment.

"This is not a Spell," Chen Wuwang stared at everyone. "Nor is it an illusion. This is a physical phenomenon—an echo from a higher dimension.

It can slip into dreams, rewrite cognition, and make a normal person suddenly tear open their own chest just to sacrifice a beating heart."

The Main Hall fell into total silence.

Even the sound of breathing grew faint.

"So..." the female Cultivator from the Leiyin Pavilion spoke with a tight voice, "you're saying that among us, someone might have already been 'heard'?"

"It's not a possibility," Chen Wuwang shook his head. "It's a certainty. They have lurked for three years, their procedures are standardized, and they are linked to all abnormal events of the last three years.

Plagues, self-immolations, collective madness... all of them are precursors. This is not a conspiracy; it is pollution. It is a spreading rot."

"Then what do we do?" the Elder of the Beipo Liu Clan asked with a trembling voice. "Seal the borders? Purge the heretics? Or... migrate to avoid the disaster?"

"All of those have been suggested," Chen Wuwang nodded. "But I didn't come here to beg you to believe me. I came to tell you—I have already seen the abyss."

He looked around the room, his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flashing with a faint red light.

"And you can choose to close your eyes, or you can choose to... build a wall together."

"But how do we build this wall?" the old Taoist from the Chuanyun Sect asked in a heavy voice. "The opponent isn't some Sect, or some Devil Head, but the 'Unspeakable One' you mentioned. What do we use to defend? What do we use to fight? Swords? Formations? Or Medicinal Pills?"

"I don't know," Chen Wuwang said frankly. "But I know we cannot pretend to be asleep. Nor can we fight our own battles. They believe, they are willing to die, and they do not fear pain.

If we still hesitate, still fighting over mine quotas and trial spots, then when it truly opens its eye, we won't even have the right to kneel."

"So what is it you want?" The burly man from the Cangling Clan finally spoke. "Unified command? Resource allocation? Or... for us to follow your orders?"

"What I want is not power."

Chen Wuwang shook his head. "What I want is vigilance. I want the clans to rotate patrols, report abnormal spiritual phenomena, and immediately notify us if any similar symbols or abnormal behavior are discovered.

What I want is for you not to treat the next person who tears their heart out as a madman."

He paused, his voice growing even lower. "I am not here to beg you to believe me. I am here to tell you—"

"I have already seen the abyss. And you can choose to close your eyes, or you can choose to... build a wall together."

The hall remained silent for a long time.

Finally, the old Taoist from the Chuanyun Sect leaned on his cane and walked step by step to the Formation Plate, looking down at the rune fragment.

"The Eastern Wasteland Alliance... as of today, enters Level 2 Alert Status." His voice was hoarse. "Clans will rotate patrols and report abnormal spiritual phenomena daily. Anyone involved with such symbols, rituals, or whispers will be detained for interrogation."

"I second the motion," the female Cultivator from the Leiyin Pavilion stepped forward.

"I second it as well," the Elder of the Beipo Liu Clan nodded.

One by one, the representatives of the twelve clans spoke up.

There were no grand speeches, no passionate oaths, only heavy names and brief statements of "I agree."

Chen Wuwang stood where he was, unmoving.

It wasn't until the last person had finished that he slowly nodded. "I will continue to monitor the anomalies. If there are any new leads, I will share them immediately."

With that, he turned and left.

No one stopped him.

No one spoke.

He walked through the hall and pushed open the bronze doors. The morning light spilled onto his face. The cracks in his left arm still throbbed with pain, and his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickered slightly, revealing a hint of exhaustion.

But his pace did not falter.

Behind him, the envoys of the Alliance were still in the hall, discussing the details of the alert in low, intermittent voices.

"We need to send people to guard Dry Bone Valley..."

"Encrypt communications at the border outposts..."

"All new Disciples must have their Divine Sense fluctuations recorded..."

Chen Wuwang did not look back.

He boarded the eye of wuwang, the hatch closed, and the engine started.

The mecha slowly rose into the air, its six thruster wings expanding and emitting blue-white flames.

He took one last look at the meeting hall, his gaze sweeping over the figures that had not yet dispersed.

Then, he pushed the control lever.

The eye of wuwang soared into the sky, piercing through the morning mist and speeding toward the Qiming Plain.

Inside the cockpit, the energy readings slowly climbed back up, and the cracks on the left arm still sparked with electric arcs.

Chen Wuwang looked at the horizon as it gradually brightened, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the console.

Once, and then again.

As if he were calculating something.

Or perhaps, as if he were waiting for something.

The wind swirled ash against the mecha's hull, making a faint rustling sound.

In the distance, the outline of the Qiming Plain gradually became clear.