Dusk fell, and a desolate silence settled over the surroundings.
The White Tiger Demon Lord waited quietly in his tent, sitting silently upon his throne.
At that moment, a divine light flickered in his eyes as souls materialized one after another behind him.
There were crimson flood dragons, emerald Cyan Simurghs, and silver-white Bians—a great and varied multitude.
These were the souls of prodigies who had fallen at his hand, imprisoned by his innate Magic.
He narrowed his eyes, a hundred thoughts swirling in his mind.
'Right now, the Dream Worlds of the Saint and Great Sage Levels are collapsing and dissipating at an incredible speed, triggering all sorts of dream storms.'
'This change is happening far too quickly—even faster than Master predicted.'
'Could it be that the two Young Venerables are about to personally enter the fray?'
'If so, my situation is incredibly perilous...'
