Loufeng laughed softly, but there was no humor in his eyes.
"The entire Ancient Astral Continent is now in the grip of the Fu clan and the Soul Refinement Sect," he said.
"Even the Qin Empire can do nothing."
He glanced into the distance.
"Even though Qin has a protector named Qin Yu, it is still not enough to suppress the Soul Refinement Sect."
His tone turned cold.
"Since Fu Zenhai was fully trusted by Fu Kangsha, everything has fallen into chaos.
Small sects are used as tools, villages vanish, people without cultivation are killed at will."
"Their souls?"
"Taken."
Ghulai closed his eyes, his expression heavy.
"They have strayed far from the Dao," he said softly.
Loufeng continued,
"Within the Soul Refinement Sect itself, there are seven levels."
He listed them one by one, flatly:
"Branch sects."
"Outer sect."
"Inner sect."
"Core sect."
"Elite sect."
"Genius sect."
"And lastly—the special sect for the heirs of the Fu clan's throne."
The air grew colder.
Luoshen suddenly clicked his tongue sharply.
"Disgusting," he said coldly.
"That sect once killed my disciple."
His hand clenched into a fist.
"His soul was turned into a soul banner."
He lifted his head, the aura of his sword trembling faintly in his eyes.
"One trillion souls."
Silence fell over Mount Qingshui.
Yunxihua did not speak immediately.
He stood quietly, his silver-white hair fluttering in the wind.
Beneath his calm exterior, something slowly moved—not an explosive rage, but a will that hardened.
"Then," he finally said, his voice calm,
"we will not destroy that sect from the outside."
He looked at all of them.
"We will cut off its seven levels."
"One by one."
In another dimension, his ancient god body opened its eyes.
For the first time in a long while—it smiled faintly.
Yunxihua spoke softly, yet everyone present heard him clearly.
"The Devouring Star Alliance now has around four million cultivators," he said.
"Dozens of sects. Dozens of pavilions.
Including the forces I personally trained."
He paused briefly.
"That is still not enough."
Everyone understood what he meant.
"The Soul Refinement Sect has branch sects everywhere," he continued.
"Added to the sects that submit to them, the total reaches seven million cultivators."
Luoshen clicked his tongue.
"They win in numbers and foundation."
"Not only that," Yunxihua said.
"They win in time. They win in structure."
Loufeng crossed his arms.
"But now the story is different."
He glanced at Ghulai and Luoshen.
"With our ancient sects joining, the alliance's strength rises by one level."
Ghulai nodded.
"We may not yet be able to launch a direct attack."
"But," he added, "we are already strong enough to not be destroyed."
Yunxihua looked far into the sky of the Ancient Astral Continent.
"With this strength," he said calmly,
"the Devouring Star Alliance will become a true contender."
"Not only against the Soul Refinement Sect,"
"but also against the other ancient clans."
A brief silence followed.
Not the silence of doubt.
But the silence of those who had begun to see the map of the world change.
"We will not rush," Yunxihua continued.
"We will not attack."
"We will gnaw away."
"One branch."
"One subordinate sect."
"One soul pathway."
"Until they realize…"
He turned, his gaze calm yet profound.
"…that this world is no longer in their grasp."
The wind of Mount Qingshui blew softly.
There were no cheers.
No oaths.
Yet from that day onward—the Devouring Star Alliance officially stood as an equal power.
Yunxihua spoke without embellishment.
"Right now, the ten thousand cultivators led by Xubailong and Xufangyu are heading toward the border of Death Valley," he said.
"I need five thousand Soul Formation–realm cultivators to guard that place."
No one questioned it.
Ghulai nodded first.
"The Buddhist Sect agrees."
Luoshen replied briefly.
"The Sword God Sect as well."
Loufeng smiled faintly.
"Demons do not like waiting, but that valley is worth guarding."
They moved almost simultaneously.
Ghulai raised his hand. A golden bell trembled softly.
From the golden light, monks appeared one by one, their formations neat, expressions calm. Buddhist banners fluttered slowly.
Luoshen pressed the ground with the tip of his finger.
The air split like a sword cut.
Dozens, then hundreds of cultivators appeared, each carrying a sword on their back.
Sharp auras merged as one. The banner of the Sword God Sect stood tall.
Loufeng chuckled softly.
Shadows stretched, then dark rifts opened.
Cultivators in black robes stepped out, their demonic auras restrained yet heavy.
At the front of the formation, the banner of the Sacred Demon Sect flew wildly.
In a short time, five thousand Soul Formation cultivators had gathered.
Without noise.
Without repeated commands.
Yunxihua looked at the formation, then nodded once.
"Move to Death Valley," he said.
"Do not attack first."
"Only stand guard."
In the distance, the wind carried the scent of ancient earth from the direction of the valley.
And long before the force arrived—Death Valley seemed to already know
that very soon…
it would no longer be empty.