The intelligence reports streaming into the hidden, subterranean war room of the Isle of Whispering Petals over the subsequent weeks painted a picture of a world rapidly spiraling into total, glorious devastation.
Wang Jian sat at the head of the newly forged, massive Star-Core Iron table, his pristine white scholarly robes a stark contrast to the dark, heavily warded stone of the chamber. Spread before him were dozens of glowing jade slips, each containing meticulously gathered data from his deeply embedded spies.
The scale of the Holy Nether Sea Organization was vastly, terrifyingly larger than anyone in the region had initially anticipated. It was not merely a loose coalition of angry sects; it was a highly organized, heavily militarized juggernaut.
