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...Ning Fengzhi narrowed his eyes, about to retort.
Just then, an indifferent, languid voice—carrying a pressure that made Souls tremble—abruptly rang out at the hall's entrance.
"You mean, if Bibi Dong were here, she'd choose to slaughter everyone?"
The air inside the hall seemed to freeze in that instant.
Everyone stiffly turned their heads toward the doorway.
The heavy, five-meter-tall redwood doors swung open on their own, without a breath of wind.
Against the noonday sun, two figures—one man, one woman—walked in slowly.
The man was dressed in black, his posture ramrod-straight, his looks so handsome they bordered on unearthly. Within those deep eyes seemed to lie an endless abyss; a single glance gave the illusion of being swallowed whole.
By his side, the woman was regal and graceful, her bearing refined. Though she looked unfamiliar, those vaguely recognizable brows made Ning Fengzhi's heart lurch.
That was... Tang Yuehua?!
And that man—"His Majesty Xuan Ming?!"
Clang!
Instantly the hall erupted into chaos: chairs toppled, teacups shattered.
Every Elder, bishop, and general paled the moment they recognized the visitors, terror brimming in their eyes.
To them, Bibi Dong was an awe-inspiring Empress, an insurmountable mountain.
But Xuan Ming—he was a god! A calamity walking among men!
The very reaper who, in a single night, had erased millions of lives by himself!
"We welcome the descent of God!"
Without hesitation, without faltering,
everyone present—including Ning Fengzhi—rose from their seats and knelt prostrate, not daring even to lift their heads.
A trembling born from the depths of their Souls left them barely able to breathe.
Hand in hand with Tang Yuehua, Xuan Ming strolled through the kneeling crowd to the head of the conference table.
He didn't take the main seat; he simply leaned against the table's edge, sweeping his indifferent gaze over the people quivering below.
"Who was it just now that spoke of wiping out the Clear Sky Sect?"
The old man shuddered like a sieve, cold sweat soaking his back in an instant. He kowtowed frantically, the sound of his forehead striking the floor sharp in the silent hall: "Mercy, my lord! Mercy! This subordinate... was only thinking of the Empire's safety—no other intention, I swear!"
"Enough. Stop knocking; the floor's expensive." Xuan Ming waved a hand in irritation.
He turned to Ning Fengzhi, who, though kneeling, still retained some backbone, and a flicker of approval flashed in his eyes.
"Sect Master Ning... oh, no, I should say Speaker Ning now."
"You spoke correctly: nine chances in ten to die brings fear; no chance at all brings madness. The Spirit Empire no longer needs more blood to prove its strength."
Hearing those words, Ning Fengzhi exhaled in silent relief. He had wagered—and won.
"All of you, rise," Xuan Ming said calmly.
Only then did the assembly dare stand, trembling, yet still kept their heads lowered, scarcely daring to breathe.
Xuan Ming looked around, indicated Tang Yuehua beside him, and announced in a level tone, "I'm here today for one thing alone: the Clear Sky Sect people—including Tang San and the four single-attribute Families—are coming with me."
Though the hall remained stifling, a trace of bewilderment crept into everyone's eyes.
Letting a tiger return to the mountains had always been a cardinal military blunder.
Moreover, this was the Clear Sky Sect that had once adamantly resisted the Empire, and Tang San who had attempted to assassinate a high minister of an allied nation.
Under normal circumstances, even Ning Fengzhi proposing such a thing would have been drowned in the spit of the hard-liners.
But now the speaker was Xuan Ming—the very god who, with a casual wave, could redraw the map of the continent.
His words required no justification; only obedience.
Yet Xuan Ming seemed to read their thoughts—or perhaps he simply didn't care—informing them was enough.
He tapped the table lightly, producing crisp "tock-tock" sounds that rang clearly in the hush.
"If you feel you need a reason to report downward..."
"then proclaim to the outside World that the Spirit Empire is about to undergo reform."
"Re... reform?"
A white-haired Elder spoke, voice trembling with bewilderment. "Your Excellency, the Empire now enjoys peace across the four seas and prosperity for every household; we stand at the height of glory. Why reform at such a time?"
"Because the Empire is too small," Xuan Ming replied coolly. "An Empire confined to the Douluo Continent has too narrow a vision. The future World holds not only this continent but also the Sun Moon Continent across the ocean—and vaster realms beyond."
"The Spirit Empire will unite with the Sun Moon Empire, shatter the boundaries of region and state, and found—the Douluo Federation."
"To celebrate the birth of the Federation and to display the inclusiveness of the new era, I hereby proclaim—amnesty throughout the realm."
"...?!"
If Xuan Ming's arrival had inspired fear, these words detonated like a warhead inside every mind.
Found a Douluo Federation?
Unite with the Sun Moon Empire?
Amnesty throughout the realm?
Each phrase could trigger a magnitude-twelve quake across the Continent.
"Your Excellency... isn't this too fast?"
Though prepared in advance, Ning Fengzhi could not hide his shock. He stepped forward and asked respectfully, "The Empire is stable, yet it was founded only recently. To restructure now—melding two utterly different civilizations while shattering existing interests—may provoke upheaval vast enough to shake the Empire's very Foundation."
Ning Fengzhi's worry was far from groundless.
Though the Spirit Empire had unified the Douluo Continent, internal strife still smoldered.
Spirit Masters and commoners, new nobles and old clans, even the remnants of the conquered Two Great Empires—all were latent sparks of unrest.
Now a mighty Sun Moon Empire would be welcomed in, and some "Federation" erected. One misstep and the fragile order might collapse.
The other high officials dared not voice it, but the same dread shone in their eyes.
Xuan Ming gazed at Ning Fengzhi without the least surprise.
He knew Ning Fengzhi's fears and what these men were thinking.
Before Bibi Dong's Ascension she had indeed outlined her vision to the inner circle.
She said the imperial order was merely transitional. As long as nation, ethnicity, region, thought, and faith remained divided, war would never die. To uproot conflict, these divisions must first be erased.
The Douluo Federation was that final form in which every division disappeared.
It was a vision so grand it verged on utopia.
All had assumed generations—perhaps centuries—would be needed to realize it.
No one expected Xuan Ming to broach it today, so abruptly and so forcefully.
"Shake the Foundation?"
Xuan Ming slowly straightened.
At that instant an indescribable terror poured from him.
The hall seemed to dim; every breath caught as an invisible hand clenched their hearts.
"You seem to forget one thing."
"So-called Foundation, so-called stability, so-called order—all rest upon power."
"In this World, I am that greatest power."
"While I stand here, my words are Heaven's Mandate."
"Heaven's Mandate is hard to defy—and may not be defied!"
His voice, like divine decree, echoed through every corner of the hall.
All doubt, all dread, before such might, was pale and hollow.
Disobey—then swallow it.
Resist—then be destroyed.
Such is the logic of gods: simple, brutal, effective.
Ning Fengzhi drew a deep breath. "This subordinate... understands."
"We obey the divine decree."
Following his lead, the others knelt and shouted in unison:
"We obey the decree! Hail the Douluo Federation!"
Xuan Ming nodded and withdrew his dreadful pressure.
He turned, took Tang Yuehua's hand again, and spoke casually: "All right, leave the restructuring talks to yourselves and the Sun Moon side; I won't interfere. I only want the result."
"Now, Ning Fengzhi, lead the way."
"Bring out the first lucky ones to benefit from the great amnesty."