Without waiting for him to speak, the old and eerie voice of Zalas, the representative from the Blood Actor Association, sounded: "Maraki and Isara, your arguments are meaningless and cannot solve the difficulties we are currently facing."

Saying this, his cloudy eyes turned to the throne, bowing as he spoke: "Lord Victor, please allow the association to dispatch the Harvester Squad. Let others handle the fights to delay them; we need fresh... research materials. What they call ’Interstellar Warriors’... and those psychics wielding blue flames...

"Research materials?!" Maraki’s fury instantly shifted, perhaps upset that someone dared to add pressure at this moment. He scolded angrily, "Zalas! Comoros is burning! Those apes bomb our cities day after day! And you’re still fixated on your perverse organs?!"

Zalas’s old and eerie voice, which didn’t sound like it came from a living creature, remained emotionless: "My research is our hope for victory. I once conducted some studies on special varieties within humans, but past materials were insufficient. Now, give us more fresh materials, and we might develop some means against them, significantly alleviating the pressure."

At this point, Isara did not oppose Maraki, instead turning her attention to Zalas: "The new fleet of humans is unending; they are even setting up bigger Veil Gates directly over the ruins! This is not just a battle; they are here to... conquer! Eradicate! They don’t need slaves or pain art; they seek total annihilation of us! There’s no time for your slow genetic research. In a life-and-death situation, there are no precious hunters to distract the enemy. Anyway, our Dusk Fang family won’t engage in such worthless matters!"

The voices of argument rose again, like a flock of ravens disturbed, with shrill accusations and curses echoing under the dome.

Victor’s steel throne’s armrest let out a subtle groan from his palm, almost being crushed. His eyes burned with a cold fury, sweeping over these governors who, at the brink of survival, were only concerned with personal gains and squabbling endlessly.

"Enough."

Just two words. The voice was not loud, yet it carried the vacuum storm of Comoros’s deep chilling void, instantly freezing all sounds.

Not just a subjective feeling—the breeze carrying the deep chill indeed blew through the conference hall, from both a factual and objective standpoint.

The governors, as if their throats were gripped, stood frozen in place, even the most furious Maraki, as they confronted those unfathomably deep black eyes with terror.

The Black Witch King remained the Black Witch King, and they felt no doubt that if the Black Witch King desired, this chilling wind freezing sounds could transform into one that froze their hearts.

Victor slowly stood from the throne, his silhouette like a profoundly oppressive shadow.

"Maraki, the Shadow Eater." His gaze first nailed the angry governor, "Since you crave battle, the ’Blood Rose’ labyrinth node will be entrusted to you. There are seven fast transport backup routes there; deploy all the hunters, mercenaries, and your so-called endless rats to defend the place. Should you fail, don’t bother returning to see me; the punishment of soul erosion will grant you a proper taste of it."

Maraki’s lips moved silently, and ultimately, under Victor’s death-like gaze, he gave a stiff, twisted salute of compliance, face ashen.

"Isara of Dusk Fang." Attention turned to the pale and aloof female governor, "I will assign multiple ports and Veil Spirit Gates to reality, the Alliance territory, for you to oversee. Find the true source coordinates of these human fleets, locate the lair in the real universe that continually supplies those apes with troops, resources, and warships. Find one, destroy one. May the suffering inflicted on our homeland be multiplied tenfold, hundredfold upon these apes’ home in the real universe, opening a war of spreading fear. Fail to do so, and you’ll be sent to the flesh mill at the deepest layer of the Eternal Arena to train our stitched beasts."

Isara’s face turned as white as new snow, bowing slightly, a flash of panic from being seen through darted through her eyes, yet she had no courage to argue.

"Zalas." Victor’s gaze finally settled on the representative of the Blood People, "The ’samples’ you desire, a slaughter battle will soon erupt at the Tower of Pain defense node’s flank. My ’Undertakers’ and ’Nightmare Team’ will create chaos, hunt targets. Have the association dispatch the Harvester Squad, too, to participate in the assault. Regardless of the cost, I will ensure you retrieve at least 200 complete Interstellar Warriors and Psychic bodies."

The Black Witch King’s fingers tapped lightly on the throne, silently, yet instantly stiffened and froze the writhing tentacles of Zalas: "I’ll also open priority viewing rights for the association at the ’Eternal Pain Library’; your research progress must have time assurance, at least reach a staged outcome. Should I find out that your research is a meaningless waste, the significance of the Blood People Association’s existence will be reconsidered."

...

The air was deathly silent.

Victor’s cold command carried more weight than any roar.

The orders from Victor were not limited to the three who spoke in the prior disagreement. Every single governor, without exception, received assignments and work instructions.

And they had no choice but to accept them.

Perhaps, if everyone present immediately united to resist the Black Witch King, they might succeed.

However, the first ten who stood out would likely face certain death.

And if unfortunate, once those ten were dead, the rest would become even more submissive to the Black Witch King, then feast on the blood of those fallen at the front, divided their power amongst themselves, and offer it up to the Black Witch King.

No one wished to be such a fool.

No one dared to make any sound, the argument just now as if it had never occurred.

"Execute." Victor’s voice was indifferent, yet like heavy shackles locked upon each soul.

The governors left the oppressive dome hall, granted a reprieve, yet also like convicts sentenced to execution, silently and swiftly.

The heavy carved doors closed behind them, sealing the inside and outside into two utterly different worlds—the turmoil and fear outside the door, the deathly judgment hall within.

When the last echo of footsteps completely faded, Victor resumed his seat upon his throne.

"Elder Woman." His voice carried deep weariness, not as majestic as when facing the numerous governors earlier.

Following Victor’s summon, a bizarrely elongated figure silently slid out from the deep shadows cast by the giant stone columns in the council hall. The leader of the Wu Ling Sect, the Elder Woman.

She wore none of the regalia that symbolized authority—a dark gold bone battle skirt and crown of thorns—instead cloaked in a gown as dark as raven feathers, her face covered by a silver-white mask without any expression, leaving only a pair of eyes as deep as ancient wells exposed.

She halted quietly at the foot of Victor’s throne steps, slightly bowing in a posture of respect.

Facing her, Victor let out a deep sigh.

He said: "Climbing my way up from the depths of Comoros to where I am now, every step I’ve taken, I reminded myself, there is no one worthy of trust, no one that cannot be betrayed."

"But you alone, the wise Elder Woman, daughter of the Mensa Blood God, I believe everything you do is for the great resurgence of our race. I acknowledged your prophecy, responded positively to it."

"Yet, how do you repay me?"

His skeletal finger traced lightly through the air.

A three-dimensional projection instantly unfurled before the throne.

The backdrop of the scene was the interior of the Reception Tower at the debris-strewn Queen Rose Port. Explosions and shadows flickered chaotically.

Yet, the focal point remained exceptionally clear: several fast-moving, constantly morphing entities, pure energy lifeforms jumping with fine arcs of blue electricity. They weaved between the ruins, precisely avoiding artillery fire, even deliberately or inadvertently creating cover paths for charging human soldiers.

The screen zoomed in abruptly, freezing.

The shell of a storm energy being rippled and distorted like a water surface, and when it stabilized, it was startlingly a human male dressed in the uniform of an Alliance Army and Imperial Star Realm Army colonel, with a resolute face! He saluted the humans, the rigid salutes of the Sky Eagle military glaringly standard.

The Elder Woman’s expression remained unchanged: "I can explain."

Victor’s hands were crossed in front of him: "Very well, I can listen to your explanation."