Chapter 269: Another World
Beyond the spatial rift lay a vast plane revered by its native inhabitants as the “Sacred Continent.”
The civilization ruling this land was a peculiar race of intelligent beings—creatures with elongated, razor-sharp limbs like those of a praying mantis, covered in fine, resilient scales akin to a lizard’s, walking upright and calling themselves the “Holy Servants.”
In the myths passed down through generations of Holy Servants, it was said that the Creator God, wielding a divine scythe of unmatched power, cleaved through chaos to birth this sacred land.
They were innately attuned to the wind element, capable of harnessing the might of gales, and legend held that the Creator God could even use the power of wind to open gateways to other worlds.
Though the Creator God had long vanished, the ultimate proof of His existence—the “World Gate” connecting to other realms—remained, serving as the core of faith and the source of power for the entire Sacred Continent.
Over the eons, the Sacred Continent had faced multiple invasions from foreign worlds.
With the Holy Servants’ formidable individual combat prowess, their profound mastery of wind laws, and their overwhelming numerical advantage, every invader was ultimately repelled, reduced to mere nutrients nourishing the continent.
By devouring the resources of these alien worlds, the Sacred Continent, in the absence of the Creator God, gave rise to four new deities: the God of Blades, who governed cutting and sharpness; the God of Gales, who ruled the atmosphere and flow; the God of Sudden Strikes, who mastered speed and ambushes; and the God of Wind Spirits, embodying the essence and transformation of wind.
These four deities established four great empires named after their divine titles around the World Gate left by the Creator God, jointly ruling the continent.The Holy Servants revered these four deities as the “Holy Gods.”
Beneath the Holy Gods, those who had reached the pinnacle of power, standing just one step shy of igniting their divine spark and ascending to godhood, were honored as “Holy Spirits.”
In the Blade Empire, within a private training ground belonging to a peak Holy Spirit:
A piercing sword wind tore through the air, emitting a sharp whistle.
A Holy Spirit was practicing, his bone-blade limbs extending from his arms, transforming into a blur imperceptible to the naked eye. Each strike drew upon the surrounding wind, creating countless fine, lethal air vortices.
His swordsmanship had reached perfection, the pinnacle of the Holy Servants’ sword dao.
Moments later, the Holy Spirit slowly sheathed his movements, retracting his blade-like limbs into his arm guards.
An elderly Holy Servant hurried over, his face brimming with barely suppressed rage. “Brother! The empire’s high council has just decided that our lineage will host this cycle’s fifty-year ‘World Gate Ceremony’!”
As a Holy Spirit, his status in the empire was exalted, granting him the authority to establish cities or even vassal states.
This messenger, his younger brother by blood, was the one delivering the news.
Though a dozen years younger, his limited talent made him appear far older.
The Sacred Continent had discovered four conquerable alien worlds, and the World Gate opened every ten years, connecting to one of them in turn.
Each opening was led by a faction with a Holy Spirit, venturing forth to plunder resources.
Every opening was a feast of abundance.
However, every fifty years, after each of the four worlds had been visited once, a “Ceremony” was held.
During the Ceremony year, the World Gate would not open. Instead, as per the divine oracles of the four Holy Gods, it required “maintenance” to repair the damage accumulated from frequent openings.
For ordinary Holy Servants, this was a festival of revelry.
But for the faction tasked with hosting the Ceremony, it meant immense losses—not only were they barred from plundering, but they also had to bear the cost of supplying vast quantities of rare resources to “reinforce” the World Gate.
The elderly Holy Servant’s fury stemmed from this.
His voice trembled with agitation. “They’re clearly trying to hinder your progress, Brother! You’re already the most exceptional among the Holy Spirits. If you gain the spoils of a few more interworld conquests, you might…”
He lowered his voice, filled with anticipation and resentment. “You might condense a divine spark and become the fifth Holy God! This is something the four empires, and perhaps even… the four Majesties, cannot allow!”
Before he could finish, the Holy Spirit moved like a phantom, a scaled hand gently covering his mouth.
The Holy Spirit shook his head, his gaze deep and calm.
Years of trials had honed his understanding of the treacherous currents of power.
“Speak cautiously. The might of the gods is not for us to speculate upon.” He released his hand, his tone indifferent.
“The more the council acts this way, the more it reveals their fear. No matter. Ordinary resources are of little use to me now. Let them revel in their schemes for this decade. In the next, we shall plan for other worlds.”
The elderly Holy Servant took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, and nodded in agreement.
With the order given, the dozens of cities under this Holy Spirit’s command sprang into action.
Vast armies assembled, marching grandly toward the continent’s center, where the four empires converged at the World Gate.
Not only them, but billions of Holy Servants and tens of thousands of Holy Spirits from all corners of the Sacred Continent converged there, joining the once-in-fifty-years grand ceremony.
Even though no plundering would occur this year, the four Holy Gods would personally descend.
That alone was reason enough for every Holy Spirit to attend and pay homage.
—
Half a year later, at the World Gate Altar:
The massive altar stood at the heart of the plains, surrounded by a sea of Holy Servants.
The clamor of voices, prayers, and hymns shook the heavens.
As the ceremony progressed, four massive cloud vortices, resembling the eyes of storms, slowly rotated in the sky, radiating an overwhelming divine aura.
At this sight, all beings present grew even more frenzied and raucous—the gaze of the four Holy Gods was upon them.
Above the altar, the once-empty space began to warp.
A faint black crack appeared silently, then spread and expanded like a living thing!
Ultimately, it formed a perfect, immeasurably wide circular black portal.
By custom, the portal should have revealed glimpses of an alien world.
But this being the Ceremony year, only profound darkness lay beyond, signifying the passage was not truly open.
The peak Holy Spirit, accompanied by his still-disgruntled younger brother, directed his subordinates to transport mountains of rare materials to the altar.
Once the four Holy Gods gave the command, the ceremony would commence, and these resources would be transformed into the power to reinforce the World Gate.
Just as one Holy God’s divine will was about to declare the ceremony’s official start…
A sudden anomaly erupted!
The center of the circular portal, which should have been a void of darkness, rippled violently like a disturbed water surface!
The next moment, a massive fist, covered in flowing black metal, thrust out from the portal’s depths!
Then came a second!
The two giant hands gripped the portal’s edges, as if forcibly prying the “door” open.
In the stunned gazes of billions of Holy Servants, two colossal humanoid figures, as large as mountains, clad in flowing black metallic skin with eyes blazing with ghostly blue flames, stepped through the World Gate!
They exuded a cold, chaotic aura utterly alien to the Sacred Continent.
Atop the head of the leading black giant, a figure casually brushed at faint spatial scars left from forcing through the unstable passage. Those scars healed visibly at a rapid pace.
He raised his head, surveying the sea of Holy Servant legions below and the four storm vortices in the sky representing the gods, a cold smirk curling his lips.
“So this is another world?” Jie Ming’s voice was soft, yet it clearly rang out across the now-silent altar grounds. “What a… grand welcome.”
With his words, the black giant beneath him let out a silent roar.
The flames in its eyes flared like ignited beacons, heralding the wizard civilization’s expedition, formally opening a bloody prelude on this “sacred” land.
—
Time rewinds to minutes before the spatial gate fully opened.
On the side of the Void Plane, the wizard legion, centered around a floating city, stood in strict formation.
Energy gleamed across countless arcane devices and war constructs, a murderous aura permeating the air.
Even Dionysius Spencer, a seventh-rank wizard, could not predict what lay beyond the gate—there had been no prior contact between the two planes beyond this forcibly opened rift.
Jie Ming stood near the front of the formation, his gaze fixed on the spatial passage, evolving from an irregular rift into a perfect circle.
In the depths of his pupils, runes faintly flickered, analyzing the shifting spatial structure.
“So that’s how it is…” he mused, overturning a previous hypothesis.
He had initially thought this was merely a natural spatial distortion caused by the Void Plane’s abundant wind elements, a phenomenon not uncommon in the multiverse.
But this increasingly stable, perfectly circular passage bore unmistakable signs of artificial crafting!
“This isn’t a rift… it’s a ‘door’!” Jie Ming instantly grasped the gravity of the situation.
A natural rift suggested the other side might have only recently discovered this plane, perhaps hiding due to insufficient strength.
But an artificially crafted spatial gate indicated the civilization beyond likely possessed interplanar travel technology, with unfathomable reserves of power!
Considering the Void Plane had yet to discover any native intelligent civilization, the gate’s builders undoubtedly hailed from the other side.
This realization sent the danger level of the opposing plane soaring in Jie Ming’s mind.
Without showing it, he subtly stepped back, positioning other wizards ahead of him.
At that moment, Dionysius Spencer’s clear, calm voice echoed from the top of the floating city, resounding in every wizard’s ears: “Spatial fluctuations have peaked, and the passage’s stability has entered a brief window! Vanguard legion, advance!”