The developmental trajectories of the five countries differed considerably, making it hard to say which was advanced and which was backward. Blood Moon's necromantic industry was at its absolute peak, where not a single corpse went to waste; Gospel excelled in nationwide coordinated production; the Starry Country's bureaucratic system was the most upright and incorruptible; the Abyss enlisted void creatures to participate in production and reproduction; and Paradise allowed souls to ascend to Eternal Paradise... One could only judge them as "each having its merits." Yet if the "sorcerer ratio" were taken as the sole benchmark, Gospel undoubtedly crushed the other nations. Under an active, well-developed educational guidance system, Gospel's proportion of sorcerers reached a staggering 10.19 percent. Though the overwhelming majority remained Silver Sorcerers their entire lives, never daring even to explore the Void Realm and condense phantom wings, it was precisely thanks to this exceptional demographic dividend that the Gospel Country seized the initiative in the tide of unification, devouring the largest slice of the pie.
Absorbing foreign cutting-edge technologies and tapping the potential of foreign markets, six hundred micro and small enterprises were founded in Gospel every single day. The transportation quota of the permanent Sky Gates was thirty percent occupied by Gospel alone; it was virtually an aggressive dumping of goods by Gospel upon the other four countries. Even if the others turned green with envy, there was nothing they could do. At most, they could sign massive intergovernmental procurement orders, but private trade had to rely on the initiative of individual entrepreneurs.
They could not even protect their domestic markets by raising tariffs—the Supreme of Stars had taken a hardline, sweeping approach, laying down extremely lenient trade regulations. The five countries were presently a vibrant spectacle of all things competing for growth, where even the Starry Country gained little advantage and instead lagged behind in national competition.
Yet the Supreme of Stars did not care in the slightest which country was leeching and which was falling behind; after all, they were all her realm now. It was like playing a management strategy game: as long as a monstrous, world-class capital could be cultivated, what did it matter if the surrounding regions suffered a little?
However, Gospel's advantage lay solely in its sorcerer population; when it came to "high-end combat power," the situation reversed. This did not mean Gospel lacked legendary sorcerers—on the contrary, Gospel's count of legendary sorcerers ranked among the upper tiers of the five countries.
Yet Gospel's legends were entirely external power supplies and processors for a god.
That the Gospel God could enfold the entire country and encompass all living beings without requiring intervention from a God-Leader was wholly reliant on dozens of legendary and Sanctuary sorcerers acting as its drivers. Meanwhile, those legends and Sanctuaries had willingly become auxiliary engines for the Gospel God. After all, the Gospel God granted them the qualification to come into close contact with the divine realm, a temptation very few sorcerers could resist—not to mention that Sanctuary sorcerers could frequently advance to legendary rank through exposure to Gospel. Which Sanctuary sorcerer dared guarantee they could achieve legendary rank in their lifetime on their own?
Sanctuary sorcerers from other countries who had reached the dead end of their sorcery paths successively petitioned the Yisu royal family, willing to renounce everything to travel to Nabistin, utterly content even if it meant becoming captive thralls of the god from then on. What Sanctuary sorcerer with genuine aspirations in sorcery wouldn't wish to behold the scenery of a legend? Even if the price was their entire life.
Yet this flourishing era filled with paragons was merely a fragile bubble of false prosperity. Melda watched the Gospel council members present an unbearable, wretched sight under the oppressive legendary aura, and the deadpan Blood Saint elf couldn't help revealing a look of contempt.
She knew that over a dozen Gospel legends were stationed in the divine underground palace less than a kilometer away in a straight line, but not a single one could stand before them. In truth, she looked forward to the Gospel legends recklessly answering their provocation. That way, the Blood Saint legends could humiliate them right in their own capital... What better way to help these barbarians find their proper place than breaking their spines?
Melda's confidence was not arrogance; Blood Moon had long investigated thoroughly. The legends of Nabistin possessed no combat capability whatsoever!
To sustain the Gospel God, the legendary sorcerers had no leeway to cultivate. They had been fattened up by the Gospel God into a pen of Lalafells, possessing the title of legend without the reality of one... In the era of the six closed countries, this mechanism that crippled high-ranking sorcerers had undoubtedly benefited the state; a nation had no need for legendary sorcerers capable of destroying countries single-handedly. In fact, it was not just Gospel; the governments of all six countries had employed every possible means to constrain Sanctuary and legendary sorcerers. Any authoritarian regime inevitably suppressed high-ranking sorcerers; this was an irreconcilable conflict between national institutions and powerful individuals.
Yet Gospel had simply suppressed them too far. Once their legendary sorcerers were rendered useless, they could only bully Sanctuary sorcerers at best. In the past, that had indeed been more than sufficient, but the era of domestic tyranny had passed; now was an age of collective competition among the five countries.
The Lalafells steeped in a pastoral idyll would ultimately have to enter the same colosseum as bloodthirsty bats and vicious jackals.
"Dragon King Divine Power!" "Angelic Alliance!" "Heaven-Bestowed Divine Weapon..."
As the royal Secret Guards flipped open their Gospel Books, beams of rosy dawn light pierced through the hall and illuminated the Gospel sorcerers. Manifold blessings from the god comprehensively enhanced their attributes, allowing even Silver Sorcerers to withstand the suffocating legendary killing intent!
"Gospel Blessing..." Melda murmured softly. This was the greatest variable in their plan: Gospel sorcerers could borrow the Gospel God's authority by consuming meritorious deeds. Having diligently governed the country for seven hundred years, the Yisu royal family had accumulated an astronomical mountain of merit. Even though the Gospel God was not adept at slaughter and war, the mere divine authority leaking from it was enough to elevate a sorcerer's combat power by a full tier.
Yet that was all it amounted to.
"Ambassador Melda!" Unable to suppress her rage, Third Witch Evalyn bristled like a ruffled British Shorthair. "What is the meaning of this! Are you trying to incite a war between Blood Moon and Gospel?"
"Certainly not. Under the gaze of the stars, how would we dare violate laws and regulations to encroach upon another country?" Melda shook her head. "This is merely our sincerity. In order to assist Gospel in hunting down that heinous demigod sorcerer, Yaxiu Heath, Blood Moon is willing to dispatch three legendary military attachés to participate in the manhunt, sparing no effort to fulfill the mission decreed by the Supreme of Stars."
Adjutant Dudu introduced them to everyone, "This is Major General Molagu, this is Major General Bate, and this is Major General Nuorman... Gentlemen, it seems our goodwill has been misunderstood. Could you please show some consideration for our friends in Gospel?"
The bats swirling above the banquet hall immediately returned into the Blood Saint legends' bodies. Pale-faced Molagu curled his lips into a sinister smile. "My apologies. Perhaps it's a cultural gap, but this is merely how Blood Moon legends greet one another. We meant no offense whatsoever."
"Exactly, exactly," the Blood Saint merman Bate said, baring sharp fangs. "We wonder where the legends of this place are? We are very eager to exchange pointers with foreign legends."
Nuorman wore a face mask and said nothing, but his chilly gaze swept over the entire room. Every sorcerer he looked upon felt an uncomfortable sensation, as though being licked by a giant serpent. Seeds of dread were quietly planted in their hearts, which even the Gospel Blessing could not dispel to awaken their courage.
All three Blood Saints were "ancient coffin legends." Even the youngest, Nuorman, had walked the world for three hundred years. Normally, they slumbered in coffins across various branches of the Church of Supreme Love to conduct the Blood Source Ritual, absorbing the spirituality of the faithful to nurture their bloodlines.
This was the advantage Blood Moon held far above other nations—the legendary sorcerers of Blood Moon did not die!
An ordinary legendary sorcerer had a lifespan of only about a hundred years. In fact, aside from the two exceptions of Blood Moon and Gospel, the average lifespan of legendary sorcerers in other countries was slightly lower than that of Sanctuary sorcerers. Ruby Mountain was far more perilous than the Distant Sky Realm—now the Staircase of Dreams. Any legend who wished to reach the peak of sorcery or transcend mortal limits had to participate in the bloody hunts of Ruby Mountain.
Compared to Ruby Mountain, the Distant Sky Realm was practically a retirement home. Void creatures would at most bite you, but if you lost in a clash of legends, other sorcerers would spare no effort to obliterate your soul. Twenty peaceful years in Sanctuary followed by soul annihilation and death within three years of reaching legendary rank was a completely common occurrence.
In normal countries, Sanctuary and legendary sorcerers were naturally replaced as eras turned, but no such turnover existed in Blood Moon. Both Blood Saints and Moon Shadows were immortal species, meaning that the Sanctuary and legendary sorcerers born over the past millennium could live straight through to the present day!
Of course, there was a price. The active lifespan of an immortal species was actually only a little over a century. Once that threshold passed, their spirituality would decline, leaving them intensely drowsy and mentally sluggish. The common remedy was to absorb spirituality in deep slumber; once spirituality accumulated to a certain level, they could emerge and be active again.
Even so, the quality and quantity of Blood Moon's legends could overwhelm the other nations.
Their slumbering Blood Saints and Moon Shadows outnumbered all of Gospel's legends combined. Moreover, every single one was a veteran legend with over a century of accumulated experience, far beyond what Gospel's pampered, crippled legends could match!
And precisely because they had numbers to spare, Blood Moon dispatched three legends in one go. Even if Molagu, Bate, and Nuorman were all lost in Gospel, it would hardly be a crippling blow to Blood Moon. That was the confidence an immortal species granted to the Blood Moon Country!
"I already said," Annan stated, completely undaunted by the legendary pressure, enunciating each word clearly, "searching for a wanted criminal is an internal affair of our country. We do not require foreign assistance or meddling!"
"Yet we believe you do."
An almost arrogant smile surfaced on Melda's face. "Yaxiu Heath is a mighty demigod who has stepped into the divine realm. Never mind fighting him, even tracking his trail requires at least legendary sorcerers, doesn't it? We were merely concerned you lacked sufficient legendary combat power, which is why we dispatched three legendary military attachés to assist. If you believe your side has ample legendary might, why not have them come forth to exchange pointers with our attachés?
"As the capital, Nabistin should have at least a few legends stationed here, shouldn't it? We come bearing sincerity. Is your country's legendary roster really going to deny us even the chance to converse?"
Were it not for the gaze of the stars, tonight would have been a Night of Long Knives, Nabistin drowning in blood, Blood Saints and Moon Shadows severing heads left and right, bat shrieks and wolf howls haunting the night sky... But alas, the interests of the stars superseded all else. Blood Moon had to take it step by step—first violently slap Gospel across the face, and then steadily usurp this weak, incompetent nation!
Seeing the humiliated, furious, yet utterly helpless expressions of the Gospel sorcerers, Melda realized Blood Moon had guessed right. The legendary sorcerers sustaining the Gospel God were not only out of practice in combat; they might not even be able to leave the underground palace, completely incapable of stepping forward to hold the line for Gospel!
In other words, in all of vast Gospel, there was not a single legendary sorcerer guarding the state! Faced with the provocation of three legendary military attachés, Gospel did not even possess a sorcerer capable of answering!
This was practically an untouched banquet, laid out for the taking.
Whether Gospel held out stubbornly or dodged the issue, it made no difference. Their diplomatic delegation was here to stay and infiltrate this country, and who could drive away three legends? As long as they did not violate the laws of the stars, the Supreme of Stars would not care in the slightest about conflicts of interest among the five countries!
Perhaps the Supreme of Stars herself looked forward to a reshuffling among the five nations. Backward, conservative powers needed to be weeded out, obsolete political entities could only become vassals, and the pastoral era of steady development was over. The strongest nation rightfully deserved the lion's share of resources!
"Insolence!" Hapi's voice trembled, but she still summoned her courage to shout, "This is our Gospel, not Blood Moon! How dare you show such disrespect to the Chief Witch!"
Amusement flashed through Molagu's eyes, but his voice came out in a low, stern growl: "And who are you to dare interrupt our conversation?! Noisy pest!" With that final bark of fury, Molagu casually flicked a streak of sinister, rapid blood-light. The spatial ripples splashing from it made it evident that this was a defense-piercing miracle capable of penetrating space, something ordinary Sanctuary sorcerers could not hope to withstand! In truth, its effect was far more vicious: once struck, the target's genetic structure would be destroyed, their body instantly liquefying into mush. Even healing miracles could not restore them to normal, leaving behind only an agonizing heap of mutated flesh and bone!
Goosebumps erupted across Hapi's skin, a chill rushing straight to her scalp. Yet a legendary sorcerer's sneak attack was unimaginably swift; she could not even begin to dodge—
*Bang! Bang!*
With two gunshot cracks, Molagu instantly deployed his Sanctuary, but it proved utterly futile. The bullets bypassed the Sanctuary entirely, blowing clean through his skull and erupting into several bats!
"Fascinating."
Qinna stood in front of Hapi, two long-barreled revolvers held in her hands at some unknown moment. The elf matriarch's pride resonated through the hall just like the gunfire. "This is the first time I've seen anyone evade my bullets like that."
"And this is the first time I've seen someone shoot through my Flower of Silt," Molagu said calmly, only half his face remaining as the bats swiftly flew back to reconstitute his head. "To think the Gospel Country possessed such an exceptional legendary gun sorcerer."
"A pity my primary disciplines are Mortification and Blood Sorcery, the exact counter to all physical attacks," he said, unbothered by revealing his own information. "Blood Bat Avatar allows me to transform into blood bats to evade any attack I suffer. My current record is withstanding sixty-six strikes in a single second; being slashed into hundreds of blood bats still left me completely unharmed."
"You're mistaken," Qinna sneered. "I am a legendary soul sorcerer. Did you really think a mere defensive miracle of mortal flesh could make me walk away empty-handed?"
*What?* Molagu froze. Azure patterns abruptly lit across his head. In an instant, a burst of blood bloomed, and pale flames blazed violently across his neck!
"You dare harm Molagu—!"
Bate let out a roar, his eyes nearly tearing at the corners. Half of it was an act and half was genuine fury. Although according to the original plan they had intended to seize any excuse to fly into a rage, Molagu getting his head blown off was not part of the script. In his wrath, he unleashed his most practiced and terrifying necromantic miracle—Profane Ripples!
A wide-area miracle of indiscriminate slaughter, which only undead creatures like Blood Saints and Moon Shadows could ignore!
On the other side, Nuorman ripped off his mask to reveal a hideous mouth without lips. He opened his jaws and spewed thick, black smoke, preparing to exhale it along with howling gales. He was an adept of both the Poison and Wind factions; with a single breath, he could unleash a venomous plague capable of leaving not a blade of grass alive within a hundred meters!
Armed with the pretext that their comrade had been attacked, they cast all restraint aside. This wasn't Blood Moon anyway; they were itching to unleash carnage upon this land and give the people of Gospel a little taste of legendary shock!
"Of course she dares."
A dreamy violet light engulfed the Blood Moon delegation like a cage trapping them within. Neither the necromantic ripples nor the virulent fog could breach the violet radiance; none of the Blood Saint legends' lethal strikes reached the Gospel sorcerers, rebounding entirely upon the casters themselves!
*What is this?!*
Bate and Nuorman looked up in shock, only to see the hazy silhouette of a violet dragon veiled in mist manifest behind Annan. Faintly luminous wings enfolded Annan's form. Even clad in tactical formal wear, the Chief Witch looked less like a warrior and far more like a proud, elegant queen.
"Yet how dare you... act insolently before me!" Annan lifted her chin slightly, her four phantom wings unfurling without restraint. The fury of sovereign authority flooded the hall like a tidal wave. Melda's legs went soft, and she nearly fell to her knees alongside the other people of Gospel.
Chapter 1200