Beyond Mount Tianji, esoteric ritual groups clad in ornate cult robes emerged one after another from the airships carrying the New Light Cult and the Primordial Sect.
The lift platforms beneath the airship hulls lowered slowly, bearing two chests of different sizes, each draped in luxurious fabrics.
To breach the obstacle before them, both cults had brought out relics from their sacred collections.
When the fabrics were pulled away, special stone caskets of a pitch-black hue were revealed underneath. Generally, such specialized stone was well-suited for containing relics, so the choices of both cults were essentially identical.
It was not that superior containment technologies did not exist; rather, they were monopolized by national governments and kept strictly out of civilian hands.
The New Light Cult's chest was larger. When opened, it revealed a taxidermy specimen of an eagle as large as a human body, except its eye had been replaced with a crystal-clear, translucent gem—this was the actual relic.
What appeared on the Primordial Sect's side was a bizarre sculpture. It looked like a curled human figure, yet on closer inspection, it resembled the branches and stems of some plant, and upon looking again, it seemed like an ordinary, natural stone.
Nearly every religion possessed relics, and these two objects could be considered exceptionally vital to the respective cults. For the two sects to sustain themselves, these two items were indispensable. Now, to counter the Tianji Sect, they had brought them out without hesitation.
The value of such relics was immense, yet they did not fear covetous eyes or theft. The New Light Cult had its holy saints, quite capable of safeguarding their own treasures.
As for the Primordial Sect's relic, it was practically one of the origins of their sect. The object had existed before the sect was founded, and non-believers could not utilize it at all. If someone could wield it, they would inevitably understand those desires even more deeply than the Primordial Sect itself—meaning they would naturally share the exact same philosophy.
Amidst the loud chanting of believers from both cults, the eagle specimen's eye flared with light. As though coming to life, it took to the air with a swoosh. Circling once overhead, it folded its wings and plunged directly into the fissure ring. In the blink of an eye, a flash of radiance burst from within, so glaring that people could barely keep their eyes open.
From the Primordial Sect's statue-like object, massive billows of multicolored smoke unfurled, gradually enveloping the fissure.
Once wrapped in the misty vapor, the fissure suddenly pulsed like a living creature, expanding and contracting, after which the squelching sound of something greasy and slimy squirming inside could be heard.
Sure enough, these two relics worked. Once unleashed, the previously stalled fissures finally began stretching outward again, with remarkably visible effect.
In just a minute or two, each fissure expanded to a considerable size.
Only when their diameter reached five to six meters did the two fissures seem to touch some boundary. Their rate of expansion slowed, yet even so, they continued steadily prising open.
Moreover, things could be seen churning and squirming within, seemingly desperate to emerge.
Whether the New Light Cult or the Primordial Sect, both maintained long-standing communications with certain entities on the other side, driven by the inherent needs of their religions and their craving for the resources of the other world.
With the presence of higher powers, the New Light Cult retained a degree of controllability, knowing what it was communing with and what capabilities it possessed. The Primordial Sect, however, could hardly explain what kind of entity it dealt with.
Not only them; even the experts brought by the Federation on this expedition could not discern the origin of that thing. Even today, the various nations' understanding of the other world remained limited.
Aboard the Empyrean Behemoth airship in the rear, Durant observed the squirming horrors within and remarked coldly, "These filthy things..."
The other two martial artists likewise disliked the things from the other side, but since they needed to exploit the power of these cultists and whatever lay behind them, they tolerated it for now.
While the fissures expanded, the other Throne martial artists did not cease their actions. They had received instructions transmitted from the Federation fleet behind them, ordering them to pin down the enemy as much as possible to ensure the fissures could widen to an adequate scale.
Having been swatted down below by a single palm strike, Igor burst free from the sand, dirt, and rubble unharmed. Shrouded in flickering purplish-red light, he rose slowly into the air, locking eyes with the indifferent gaze of the colossal Divine Visage before him.
At that moment, a figure suddenly materialized directly above the Divine Visage's head. It was Sievert Drakeholm of the Deep Sea Spiral Company. Raising both hands high, with a ball of sparkling brilliance between his facing palms, he slammed his hands downward with ferocious force!
The spiritual impact detonated at point-blank range. A flash of golden light instantly flared, so piercing that everyone reflexively shut their eyes. Above the Divine Visage's head, an enormous breach had been blasted open.
Yet with a mere flicker of the Divine Visage's eyes, an uncanny force seemed to release, and Drakeholm was blasted in midair into mangled shreds of flesh and blood in that very instant.
Hurtled into the distance by that force, the bits of flesh and blood rained pattering onto the ground. Soon, however, they began twitching and leaping rapidly, converging toward the center and recombining into a single whole in mere moments.
Wisps of golden mist drifted from the breach atop the Divine Visage's head. As the golden mist slowly gathered, the breach was fully repaired.
Standing on the ground, Drakeholm looked up at this sight and slowly exhaled.
On the other side, Field of Colossus Plant toyed with a specially crafted stone in his hand. After flashing a wicked smirk, he whipped around, spinning in place several times before hurling the stone toward the Divine Visage!
A stream of light wrapped in spiritual fire shot toward the Divine Visage's face. Yet no sooner had it pierced the golden light before the visage than the spiritual flames coating the stone abruptly dimmed and swiftly snuffed out; the stone itself trembled violently in midair a few times before instantly disintegrating into fine powder.
The Divine Visage stood motionless where it was, seemingly indifferent to it all.
At this sight, though the smile still lingered on Field's lips, a deep wariness flashed in the depths of his eyes.
Meanwhile, the two fissures behind had expanded to a height of seventeen or eighteen meters, positioned to the left and right, both aimed straight at Real Man Long Xian.
From the Primordial Sect's fissure poured a mass of mist, growing denser by the second, within which countless faces and arms seemed to writhe.
This was the sect drawing upon the power of an otherworldly entity to attack the Divine Visage, and under the effects of the esoteric ritual, they would only attack the designated target of the rite.
The New Light Cult's fissure, on the other hand, jetted a beam of radiance that shone directly toward Real Man Long Xian.
Over on the Federation fleet's side, an announcement immediately went out over the public communication channel, instructing everyone to put on the specially distributed glasses and avoid looking directly at the light.
Having received the warning, personnel aboard the airships quickly fished them from their pockets and put them on, only to discover that the radiance was not at all glaring. Instead, it was remarkably gentle, making one want to gaze at it longer, or even plunge headlong into it.
The light itself was not immediately dangerous, but prolonged exposure led one to identify with the New Light Cult and embrace everything it preached, placing unconditional trust in the bearers of the New Light until one inevitably became a cult believer—and ultimately, a sacrificial offering upon their altar.
Dressed in full pontifical regalia, Pontiff Irose of the New Light Cult reached out, took hold of an ornate scepter at his side, and flew forward, guided by that beam of radiance.
Archbishop Merton of the Primordial Sect clearly had an agreement with him; seeing him make his move, Merton flew out from his airship as well.
With both of them stepping into the fray, almost all five Throne martial artists on the Federation's side were now on the field.
Yet they also had tactical arrangements. Igor and the other two quickly split up, each seeking out a Zhenren to harass and pin down. Meanwhile, Irose and Merton prepared to concentrate their strength and force a breakthrough from Real Man Long Xian's side.
Watching the two approaching figures, Real Man Long Xian did not simply let his opponents make the first move this time.
He raised his hand slowly, extended a single finger, and tapped lightly toward the space ahead.
Aboard an airship in the distance, Lily, who was busy taking photographs, suddenly felt the world spin dizzily around her. When she regained her senses, she found that Briggs had already whisked her onto another airship, while booming explosions roared in her ears.
Scrambling to her feet, she gripped the railing and leaned out to look, only to see the airship she had been on just moments ago detonating in midair.
And that was not all. Across more than ten kilometers of the sky, every single airship aloft met the same fate, all bursting into giant fireballs, showering down countless burning, smoke-trailing wrecks.
Recalling something, she ran along the deck against the surging gusts of wind toward the flank. Looking in the direction of the fissures, her eyes went wide, and she involuntarily slapped a hand over her mouth.
Where hundreds upon thousands of New Light Cult believers had gathered, not a soul remained. All that was left on the ground was an immense carpet of flesh and blood, splattered and spreading across a vast expanse.
Up in the sky, Archbishop Merton had been flying forward alongside the New Light Cult's Pontiff, only to suddenly notice that Irose had vanished from beside him. His figure ground to a halt.
Meanwhile, over ten kilometers away, a colossal cloud of smoke and dust violently erupted from the ground.
After a moment, shattered vegetation, soil, and building fragments drifted outward as Irose's figure emerged from within.
His ceremonial regalia was now tattered and torn, and pieces were chipped away from the silver mask on his face.
Just moments ago, he had been propelled outward by an overwhelming force, entirely unable to brake or halt his momentum. It gave him a profound taste of that Divine Visage's might.
He looked up. An external visage of such stature naturally possessed strength several times greater than their own—something truly terrifying.
Yet he had also discerned the opponent's flaw. That power was likely incomplete, and the wielder was probably subject to certain constraints that prevented consecutive strikes; otherwise, he wouldn't have gotten off with merely being repelled.
This was only natural. Immense power inevitably demanded a sturdier vessel to bear it, regardless of which path one practiced. Delivering a single strike might even require a momentary pause to recover.
If that was the case...
The golden eyes exposed beneath his cracked mask glinted. There was still a chance.
Chapter 1299