Chapter 420 Bahamut
"Mozberg, do you know what you're saying?"
The fierce argument among those present ceased abruptly at intelligence officer Mozberg's single sentence. Many cast questioning glances at the short, unremarkable intelligence official.
Becoming the focal point of such a group of high-ranking figures commanding the entire Latin Alliance, he, who was accustomed to lurking in the shadows, appeared somewhat uneasy.
As an excellent intelligence officer, and secretly the head of all national secret espionage agencies, he harbored no fondness for public appearances.
Had it not been for the sheer urgency of this matter, concerning the very survival of the entire nation, he would not have personally brought the latest intelligence from front-line personnel to the council chamber.
Given the security level of this place, only a high-ranking official like him from the intelligence department possessed the qualifications to bypass stringent searches and deliver information inside with utmost speed.
Even if these old masters of the council usually did nothing productive, primarily engaging in arguments, bureaucratic security was always meticulously ensured; those of insufficient rank, or idlers, were forbidden entry.
"The original energy field has completely vanished, and after multiple tests by my subordinates, various electronic devices and communication tools are now operating normally within the forest..."
A significant reason originally limiting humanity's exploitation of these great treasure troves was the disruptive properties of the protective energy field.
For humanity, heavily reliant on modern information technology, the loss of most of their tools meant their inherent advantages diminished exponentially.
The inoperability of communication tools, in particular, was utterly fatal.
Yet this annoying energy field was so immeasurably vast in scope that even a medium-yield nuclear bombardment could only weaken it for a short time; it would quickly recover once the bombing ceased.
Furthermore, no nation would be willing to subject such a massive treasure trove to saturation nuclear bombing, expending countless resources merely to obtain a scorched wasteland.
Force, after all, was merely a means to acquire benefits; if the benefits themselves ceased to exist, the use of force became utterly meaningless.
Driven by these various reasons, humanity eventually temporarily acknowledged the semi-independence of the Four Great Mystical Realms, opting instead for limited development.
"Could this also be a trick by the Land of White?" Almost everyone, at that moment, shared this thought in unison.
A press conference had just concluded this morning, and now such an event had transpired, making it difficult for them not to connect the two.
"This is a live broadcast from the site." After entering the password, Mozberg connected his laptop to the conference room's projector, displaying the real-time situation to those present.
"Whirr, whirr, whirr..." Faintly, the sound of propellers slicing through the air could be heard in the video's background. The immense noise made the speaker's voice very difficult to discern.
"...Greetings, esteemed council members. This is above the Amazon Secret Realm's A14 checkpoint. As you can see, the pale yellow mist that once enshrouded the forest within is now so thin it’s invisible to the naked eye. Only with the aid of specialized measuring instruments can faint traces of the mist barely be detected..."
"Captain Python, what’s the situation inside?" After a brief introduction to the surroundings, the camera switched to the front-line special forces team that had been urgently dispatched to investigate.
"We have currently penetrated to a depth of twenty kilometers. The positioning signal remains normal, but during our exploration, we haven't encountered a single mutated creature, which is highly unusual."
This special forces team, composed entirely of Third-Tier warriors, each wore a mission recorder on their heads, continuously documenting everything they observed.
"No mutated creatures?" A council member picked up the microphone connected to the computer and began to communicate directly with Captain Python’s team.
"That’s correct. Under the spirit arts vision of every one of us, we’ve found no mutated creatures whatsoever; they are all just ordinary animals."
...
"General Maxon, Council Member Scott, you’ve all arrived?" When their personal interests were at stake, the people within the Latin Alliance’s council always demonstrated unbelievably high efficiency.
Within ten minutes of receiving the news, several high-ranking officials’ avatars had already flown swiftly from neighboring cities to the periphery of the Secret Realm Forest.
Since the initial spread of the Ten Thousand Phantoms Sutra, cultivators from various systems worldwide had successively adapted and modified it extensively, developing dozens of avatar cultivation methods with different focuses.
The reason was simple: avatars were simply too convenient. Whether for preserving one’s life, scouting, or handling other matters, having a few extra avatars always yielded twice the results with half the effort.
Especially for those plagued by extreme paranoia, trusting no one but themselves, avatars offered an excellent solution.
It was precisely due to this strong demand that cultivation techniques for avatars continued to be innovated, becoming widely popular among higher-tier superhumans, while also greatly boosting their productivity.
The only pity was that even after years of improvements, almost every related cultivation technique still required a Fourth-Tier starting point, a threshold too high that barred a significant portion of people.
...
"Boom! Boom! Boom!" In the subspace that was once the headquarters of the Alliance of Ten Thousand Beasts, densely packed mutated creatures shivered and cowered, staring fearfully at the lightning-streaked, thundering sky.
The blood-red sky, occasionally crisscrossed by blue-white electrical arcs, continuously painted a picture of oppressive calm before the storm, as if the end of the world was nigh.
Of course, it wasn’t wrong to call it the end of the world. For this subspace, what Bai Mo was doing now was precisely bringing its true demise.
The Nine Netherworlds, where illusion and reality coexisted, guided by his power, had now begun its first assimilation of other subspaces.
As for the minor world that could connect to the cores of the Four Great Mystical Realms, once thoroughly assimilated, it would transform into a new layer within the Nine Netherworlds.
The integration process was not smooth. Even though such a minor world lacked a so-called "world consciousness" and wouldn't actively resist assimilation.
The Nine Netherworlds, originally created by Bai Mo alone, and the Monster Realm, cultivated over many years by countless mutated animals, didn't have a significant size disparity between them, making the current assimilation quite strenuous.
"Why does he want us all to gather in the Monster Realm at such a perilous time?" Bahamut, self-proclaimed Azure Dragon, muttered inwardly as he watched the constantly appearing spatial rifts.
The mutated creatures had learned from humans of various cultural backgrounds, blending their teachings to forge something uniquely their own.
Thus, a Western-style name like Bahamut was blended with a clearly Eastern-style moniker such as Azure Dragon.
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