"Still, most of the energy within a Sovereign's blood essence would simply dissipate and be wasted."
"The Third Brother is right," Redding said with a nod. "That's exactly why I'm thinking—could we create something that preserves the energy inside the blood essence and prevents it from dispersing?"
"If we can, then a single drop of our blood essence should be enough to baptize nearly a hundred descendants and bring about a qualitative transformation in their bloodline power."
"Indeed. If we can develop something like that, then in the future every member of the Four Divine Beasts Clan will be, at the very least, a Demigod. Perhaps after countless years, our clan's descendants will spread across the Seven Divine Planes and the Four Higher Planes, becoming the most powerful and invincible clan in the universe."
"Then let's do it!"
While the Four Divine Beast Sovereigns were pondering methods of bloodline baptism, one of Locke's routine sweeps with his divine sense unexpectedly discovered that Celes and Mila had already arrived at the Netherworld Mountain Range.
Moreover, the two of them had already passed through the second layer of mist and were now traversing the third layer, making their way toward the foot of Mount Netherworld.
"Celes and Mila…"
To be honest, Locke was rather surprised to see the two of them reach the third layer.
The three layers of mist he had arranged around the Netherworld Mountain Range each served a different purpose.
The outermost layer could be safely crossed by anyone whose soul strength had reached the Midgod level.
The second layer required the soul and divine spark to be perfectly compatible, with soul strength at least at the Highgod level.
If the first two layers were used to select soldiers for the Sovereign Army, then the innermost layer surrounding Mount Netherworld itself was used to select captains and commanders for the army—and to block those experts who had no intention of joining, but merely wished to audience a Sovereign and become a Sovereign's Emissary.
The third layer had two levels of difficulty.
Every living being who entered it would first face a question in their mind:
Do you intend to join the Sovereign Army?
If the answer was yes, then the difficulty of the mist would be adjusted according to the rank they wished to hold—squad leader, company captain, battalion commander, vice commander, or commander.
If the answer was no, then the full power of the mist would be unleashed.
Unless one possessed a soul-protecting Sovereign artifact, or was a Paragon with willpower amplification, then even experts at the Asura Prefect level would be unable to pass.
Worse still, repeated attempts to force one's way through would activate a deeper transformation within the mist—
the Eighteen Hells.
The sounds of battle and agonized screams heard by those outside were the result of people triggering the illusionary hell layers and suffering damage.
Of course, Locke had no intention of wantonly slaughtering the gods who came seeking audience with the Sovereign.
He merely wanted them to recognize the difficulty and retreat.
Thus, the deepest illusion he had actually prepared only went as far as the Third Hell.
If someone could endure the assault of those three hellish illusions and still reach the foot of Mount Netherworld, Locke wouldn't mind granting them a chance to audience the Sovereign.
Between each of the three layers of mist lay a one-kilometer-wide buffer zone.
This area was entirely free of mist, serving as a resting and cultivation area for those who had successfully passed through.
It was also where the two Sovereign armies were stationed.
Mila's eyes were vacant as she stumbled out of the mist like a walking corpse.
The moment she stepped out, clarity immediately returned to her gaze.
Looking at the familiar scene before her, she let out a soft sigh.
Failed again.
"Not bad, Mila."
"You lasted one incense stick longer than last time."
Celes's voice sounded beside her ear.
"What's the point of lasting longer?"
Mila shook her head.
"Every time I enter that mist, I only manage to walk about ten meters before I lose all sense of direction, and then my five senses gradually fade away…"
"I truly can't imagine what kind of powerhouse it would take to pass this trial."
"And if no one can pass, why do all these people keep trying again and again?"
"Haha, Mila, do you really think everyone here is a fool?"
Celes laughed.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but every time you return from the mist, after your five senses recover, your comprehension of the Profound Mysteries and your control over soul power both improve ever so slightly."
"Even if they never get to meet the Sovereign, simply being able to clearly feel themselves improving after each attempt is enough to make people addicted to this place."
"Is that so?"
Mila checked her own condition, but failed to notice any obvious changes, leaving her somewhat puzzled.
Did the mist really have such an effect?
Seeing her expression, Celes shook his head.
He had forgotten—
Mila had only recently become a Highgod.
She had not yet reached that stage where one could go hundreds of thousands or even millions of years without sensing any progress.
Only when one truly reached that point would they understand how irresistible even the slightest sign of advancement was.
Even if one's condition quickly returned to normal afterward, that tiny bit of progress was undeniably real.
Inside the Water Palace, Locke's divine sense caught Celes's words, and he immediately understood.
So that was it.
He had been wondering why these Six-Star and Seven-Star Fiend-level experts kept entering the mist over and over again, despite the suppression of the five senses and the terror of the first three hell layers.
It turned out that once the senses returned, there was also an effect that enhanced law affinity and improved soul control.
Of course, it was similar to mortals entering a Divine Plane from a Material Plane.
At first, the increased elemental density and law clarity led to explosive progress.
But once the body and soul adapted, cultivation speed naturally slowed.
The suppression of the five senses worked the same way.
The instant the senses returned, one's perception of the surroundings became extraordinarily sharp.
As the senses fully recovered, that clarity gradually faded.
But these were all deities.
For them, breakthroughs in the Profound Mysteries often came down to a single flash of inspiration.
At the moment their senses returned, the greatly heightened affinity for the laws allowed them to seize that fleeting spark more easily.
Of course, because it was merely a flash of insight, it was never easy to grasp.
Still, even if they failed to seize it, any trace of improvement was enough to drive them into a frenzy.
Saint-level experts possessed eternal life.
But in the Divine and Higher Planes, how long could a Saint truly survive?
If one spent endless years without any progress at all, then it wasn't a matter of how many years they had lived—
every day simply became the same day repeated endlessly.
Saints who failed to break through to godhood after more than a hundred thousand years would almost always choose to venture out.
Either break through amid danger—
or perish within it.
The same was true for gods.
After millions, tens of millions, or even hundreds of millions of years without sensing the slightest improvement, unless they had family or emotional ties to anchor them, they would inevitably begin roaming the planes, seeking life-and-death battles in the hope of advancing further.
And this was while the true effect of the third layer of mist in the deeper regions of the Netherworld Mountain Range remained unknown.
If word ever spread, then within less than a hundred thousand years, the entire mountain range would likely be overflowing with experts from every plane.
Shaking his head, Locke stopped paying attention to it.
No matter how many gods gathered, before a Sovereign they were all ants.
Ever since becoming a Sovereign, Locke found himself needing to be extremely cautious whenever he spread his divine sense.
He was always afraid that a moment of carelessness might mix his willpower amplification into it.
If that happened, every living being in the Netherworld—aside from those with soul-protecting Sovereign artifacts or Paragons possessing willpower—would likely be wiped out.
That was how fragile gods were before a Sovereign.
As for Mila, Locke remained rather curious.
Back then, when he returned to the Frostsnow Plane to leave behind a Saint guardian for the Locke Clan, he had chosen Mila Locke largely because of her diligence.
In Locke's eyes at the time, Mila's talent had been fairly ordinary.
Only her hard work had earned his praise.
When he left the Frostsnow Plane, Mila had merely been a Saint.
After several million years, Locke had once believed that her limit would be a God at best.
Even becoming a Highgod had seemed doubtful.
Yet now, upon meeting her again, she had given him such a pleasant surprise.
What exactly had led to such tremendous growth?
Even so, Locke did not use soul vision or the Edicts of Fate to peer into her past.
Life, after all, ought to retain a few mysteries.
That was what made uncovering the truth enjoyable.
If every question were answered the very next second, life would become far too dull.
Perhaps that was why the future High Sovereign eventually chose to amuse himself through humanity—after seeing too much and understanding too much of the world's mysteries.
As for Celes and Mila, Locke had no intention of meeting them just yet.
Instead, he found himself looking forward to the expressions on their faces when they finally broke through the mist, arrived at the foot of Mount Netherworld, and were received by him.
"…Could it be I've been infected by Lilia?"
Rubbing his chin, Locke mused inwardly.
With his previous personality, the moment he sensed their arrival, he would have summoned them immediately and asked why they had come.
And yet now, he was actually anticipating their reaction upon seeing him.
If the Death Sovereign knew what he was thinking, she would definitely roll her eyes at him.
What a joke.
At this point, she hadn't even developed the mischievous habit of teasing others yet.
How could she have "infected" him?
After Oakes left, the formation of Locke's Sovereign Army naturally stalled.
There was no helping it.
At present, the only truly capable expert Locke had on hand was Oakes.
Since Oakes had gone to other planes to gather heavenly treasures for him, there was no sufficiently powerful figure left to hold down the fort and suppress the experts gathered within the range.
After all, the weakest among those who refused to join the Sovereign Army were already Six-Star Fiends.
"Should I recruit a few more Sovereign's Emissaries?"
The thought flickered through Locke's mind—
only for him to shake his head.
Even with both the status of a Law Sovereign and a Demigod Sovereign, he only had eight Emissary slots.
For a very long time to come, that number likely wouldn't change.
Under such circumstances, Locke had no intention of wasting such precious slots on just anyone.
If he were to recruit emissaries, then at the very least they had to be individuals who left a deep impression in his memory.
For example—
those destined to become future Paragons.
Or people like Oakes—
soul mutants.
Ordinary gods, even Asura Prefects, were in Locke's eyes existences whose potential had already been exhausted.
At least Paragons still had the possibility of using their perfected laws to touch upon the Laws of Time and Space.
Soul mutants still had the path of cross-law fusion ahead of them.
In other words—
to earn Locke's attention, one had to possess, at the very least, a future path.
Without a future, without room to grow, even Sovereigns were merely so-so in Locke's eyes.
Well—
that naturally excluded the Death Sovereign.
"My lord Locke, this is the Divine Beast essence blood that has been collected over the years."
Since all he had needed to do was deliver a message, Oakes had returned to the Netherworld in merely a thousand years, bringing back the Divine Beast blood essence gathered by Locke's subordinate forces across the Seven Divine Planes and the other three Higher Planes.
"You've worked hard, Oakes."
Taking the interspatial ring from him, Locke nodded.
"It is my honor to serve you, Lord Locke."
Although Locke's attitude toward him had remained the same as before, Oakes never dared grow arrogant from favor.
The Sovereign's power Locke had granted him alone already far exceeded his own value.
"Oh, right, Oakes."
"Having you personally run around every time there's a bit of information to deliver is terribly inefficient."
"Once the Sovereign Army is established, start looking for people with divine clones and station them across the Seven Divine Planes and the other three Higher Planes as intelligence personnel."
There was no network in the Coiling Dragon Universe.
Information spread slowly and remained relatively closed off.
But necessity always bred solutions.
Over countless years, every major force had developed its own channels for gathering and transmitting intelligence.
The most common method was to distribute people with divine clones across different locations.
Whenever there was news, they could simply relay it through their clones.
Even across different planes, since all the clones shared the same soul and experiences, cross-plane communication was as simple as speaking a single sentence.
(End of Chapter)
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