Beyond the Main Continent, in the depths of the endless ocean.
Dark clouds covered the sky, giant waves rolled on the sea, and amidst the storm, a man in a red robe appeared.
He was the Supervisor of the Truth Society’s Colorful Rings – Fen Feng.
At this mont, he was in battle, and his opponent was a Giant towering a hundred ters tall.
The Giant had bluish-black stone-like skin, moved slowly like an animated statue, but possessed great strength; each strike could make the surrounding air tremble and the sea surface explode.
Relying on his speed advantage, Fen Feng continuously circled behind the Giant to attack, provoking the Giant into a fury.
At the peak of the Giant’s rage, Fen Feng seized an opportunity, transforming his entire body into a ball of flas, and charged into the Giant’s open mouth, shooting out from the back of its head.
"Whoosh!"
Flas spurted from the Giant’s eyes, nostrils, and ears. It grabbed its face with both hands, struggled montarily, then beca rigid, losing all Life Power, as well as its buoyancy on the sea.
The sea could not support the Giant’s massive body. With a crashing sound, the surface shattered, and the Giant quickly sank, plunging to the ocean floor.
A whirlpool appeared on the surface, which cald down shortly after.
"Phew—it’s over—" Fen Feng muttered, glancing once and speaking aloud, "Finally resolved the failed containnt target, I hope this is the last one, yes, hopefully..."
In the midst of speaking, he abruptly turned his head toward the continent, his face changing dramatically as he incredulously said, "This is..."
...
Sowhere on the Main Continent, in a colossal underground structure, stood a palace.
The palace spanned over fifty ters in diater, exceedingly spacious, with dozens of fla-lit pillars for illumination. In the center of the palace was a grayish-white Bone Table over three ters long, and behind it was a Bone Chair of the sa material.
A man in a Black Robe sat on the Bone Chair, reviewing docunts.
He was the Supervisor of the Truth Society’s Colorful Rings – Gray Mist.
Across the Bone Table, in front of Gray Mist, stood a mber of the Truth Society as plump as a pumpkin – Gorlov, who was reporting on so organizational matters with great respect.
"Swish, swish, swish..."
"Three days ago, the organization discovered a new Strange Species, located at..."
One reviewed, the other reported, both unaffected by the other’s presence.
Suddenly, Gray Mist seed to have heard unwelco news, abruptly stopping his review, and raised his head to stare at Gorlov.
Gorlov was startled, uncertainly probing, "Your Excellency, you..."
Gray Mist remained silent, only continuing to stare at Gorlov, squinting his eyes, his gaze incredibly severe. An invisible pressure spread, the pressure in the entire palace seemingly multiplying out of nowhere, causing the flas atop the lamp pillars to visibly lower, nearly extinguishing.
The palace beca remarkably dim, the atmosphere extrely oppressive, most acutely felt by the one being stared at by Gray Mist – Gorlov. Gorlov felt as if a mountain was weighing him down, making it almost impossible to breathe. Sweat seeped through, soaking his clothes, and he felt he might collapse at any mont.
At this mont, his heart quivered endlessly, utterly unable to understand what had angered Supervisor Gray Mist: the report was similar to usual, with no apparent issues.
Could it be that so of his unsavory actions had been discovered by Supervisor Gray Mist?
Gorlov’s mind raced, thinking of things at risk of exposure.
A second, two seconds, three seconds...
After being stared at by Gray Mist for half a minute, Gorlov’s psychological pressure beca unbearable, on the verge of confessing everything and begging for leniency, when suddenly he heard Gray Mist utter in a deep voice, "The Dead Sea has died."
"Ah?" Gorlov raised his head, dumbfounded.
...
Within a city.
In a Noble estate’s study room, an old man full of wrinkles was reading a book by the light of a lamp.
He wore a light gray robe, his hair and beard entirely white, exuding a sowhat transcendent aura.
He was the Supervisor of the Truth Society’s Colorful Rings – Red Moon.
He read slowly and carefully, his fingers tracing the pages as he softly read the words aloud.
Midway through reading, his finger paused, and he looked up, slightly surprised, and said, "The Dead Sea... has died?"
"Hmm—"
With a rustling sound, he closed the book and stood up, walked to the window with furrowed brows, and mused, "The opponent has achieved this extent? Even the Dead Sea isn’t spared? It seems, they must be taken seriously, this matter can’t be taken lightly."
Saying this, the old man arrived at the window, opened it, and gazed at the night sky.
The crescent moon hung high in the night sky, like a silver hook.
The old man fixed his gaze on the moon for a long ti, until he saw a hint of blood red subtly appear on the moon’s surface.
...
...
Two days later, at night.
In a desolate plain seldom visited by people, an architectural complex stood conspicuously.
Outside the complex, three layers of walls were constructed, with many Soldiers patrolling inside and out, occasionally accompanied by Wizards surveilling the night sky, while personnel entering and leaving were subjected to strict inspections, raising the defenses to an extre level.
Inside the complex, in an inconspicuous small room, a square-faced man sat on a wooden chair, staring at a candle burning on a table in front of him, lost in thought.
Ti seed to pass unknown, and with a creaking sound, the door to the room opened, and a Soldier entered, respectfully saying, "My Lord, it’s ti, the Craftsn are all ready, just waiting for you."
"Hmm, understood." The square-faced man ca back to his senses, nodded, took a deep breath, said nothing superfluous, and left the room, walking with the Soldier through a complex labyrinthine corridor.
After a series of twists and turns, the square-faced man entered a large room, expansive enough to resemble a warehouse.
Inside, many had already been waiting for a long ti, led by an elderly man with a monocle, his expression serious, and his eyes bright.
The square-faced man looked at him with a bit of reverence and asked, "Master Amon, how is the situation?"
"All set, everything is normal, we can start anyti." The old man known as Amon replied.
"Good, then let’s begin."
"Agreed." Amon nodded, instructing the other Craftsn to start working, while gesturing for the square-faced man to head to a spot in the corner.
The square-faced man cooperatively moved, noting that the floor and surrounding walls had undergone special reinforcent, evidently to prevent unforeseen incidents during the test.
He stood firm, voluntarily removing his clothes, and before long, Amon led a group of Craftsn over, each holding a box, which, upon opening, revealed one or several items made of Crystal.
The Crystal items varied in shape; so were conical, so spherical, and others cylindrical, with sizes ranging from as large as an apple to as small as an apricot pit. What they had in common was the intricate Magic Runes carved on their surfaces, clearly making them extrely valuable Magic Tools.
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