92: Chapter 92 The Guardian Alliance is Established

The post by War God Number One was like a "a popular chinese chili sauce brand, used here as a symbolic name for the weapon"-branded holy light grenade dropped into the deep sea; it didn't just splash, it stirred up a monstrous wave.

At this moment, the shelter's forum completely transformed into an ocean of joy and madness.

"Holy crap! The 'a popular chinese chili sauce brand, used here as a symbolic name for the weapon' is the eternal god!"

"The R&D department is OP (voice crack)! Mom asked me why I was kneeling while reading the forum, and I told her I was worshipping a miracle!"

"LMAO, the brothers on the front lines are fighting to the death, while the brothers in the rear are quietly making a fortune (making weapons)! I give this coordination full marks!"

"Ten thousand bottles? That's small-minded! Give us a hundred million! I want to pilot an interstellar warship and give that so-called evil god a blessing!"

The clamor, the fanaticism, and an indescribable optimism unique to the fourth calamity spread rapidly to every corner of the shelter.

The oppression and heaviness brought about by the arrival of the apocalypse were scattered by this sudden, strangely-styled victory.

In stark contrast to the players' revelry was the dead silence of the local survivors in another corner of the shelter.

Ninth Prince Ji Haoyue, once the pride of heaven, stood on a high ground, silently overlooking the bustling R&D area below.

Behind him stood dozens of surviving holy land cultivators and scions of great families.

Each of them had once been the cream of the crop, but now, their faces held only bewilderment, shock, and a trace of humiliation that could not be concealed.

Not long ago, they were still discussing how to use ancient sword formations to counter aberrant bodies and how to use Dao heart secret techniques to resist spiritual pollution.

But now, they watched helplessly as a group of beings they viewed as "barbarians" and "outerworldly demons" solved this world-class problem in a way they completely failed to understand.

"Your Highness... those 'outerworldly demons', they..." An elder's lips trembled. He wanted to say "blasphemy" or "heretical path," but looking at the footage on the light screen where the "grudge aggregate" was instantly purified, he couldn't say those words no matter what.

Ji Haoyue's gaze fell on the core of the R&D area.

There, Liver Emperor V87 was shirtless, like a mad blacksmith, directing hundreds of players to assemble a brand-new assembly line.

Countless glass bottles traveled along the assembly line, being inscribed with miniature runes, then filled with golden faith concentrate by specialists, and finally subjected to final packaging and quality control by a team of female players led by Skillful Hands Mending.

They even thoughtfully tied a red ribbon on the bottles, calling it "bringing a touch of warmth to the warriors on the front lines."

Beside the assembly line, The Romance of the Science Guy was facing a huge light screen, his fingers flying as countless data streams and rune models were constantly reorganized and optimized under his control.

"Report! The energy conversion rate of the 'Purifier Type I' has been increased to thirty-seven percent! I suggest changing the 'Spirit Gathering Talisman' to a three-ring nested structure, which can form a secondary resonance at the moment of explosion, increasing the purification range by fifteen percent!"

"Cost! Watch the cost! The 'high-concentration faith concentrate' is a strategic resource, and the ancestors' stock is not infinite! We must find a dilution formula!"

"I suggest mixing a small amount of blessed 'holy water' into the concentrate; although it will reduce individual lethality, it can significantly increase the sustained purification time, forming a strategic quarantine zone! I call it the 'Political Commissar' version of the holy light grenade!"

Ji Haoyue couldn't understand those terms, but he could understand that kind of efficiency, that kind of fanaticism, and that terrifying execution that completely turned "war" and "cultivation" into "industrial production."

This was not cultivation; this was the crushing of a civilization.

His heart was bleeding.

The pride and dignity that the holy land had inherited for tens of thousands of years were, at this moment, smashed to pieces by that glass bottle printed with the image of a kindly aunt.

Just then, a player messenger hurried up to the high ground. He didn't even salute, just brandished a token in his hand.

"Ninth Prince, Mr. Outlaw Zhang San requests your presence; the shelter's supreme decision-making meeting is about to begin."

...

The meeting was held in a huge circular council hall, temporarily built by the players, resembling a Roman colosseum.

There were no complicated etiquettes, no seats of rank.

The player representatives, such as War God Number One, Immovable as a Mountain, and Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation, sat casually on the stone steps.

And Outlaw Zhang San stood in the very center, behind him was the blurry but increasingly majestic spiritual shadow of the ancestor.

When Ji Haoyue brought his followers into the council hall, this was the scene he saw.

These "outerworldly demons," whom he had once regarded as pawns and allies, had now become the sole order-makers in this apocalyptic wasteland.

"Everyone." Outlaw Zhang San cleared his throat, his voice clearly transmitted throughout the hall via an amplification magic array.

"I believe everyone has seen that we have weapons to counter the darkness. However, this is far from enough."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, whether they were excited players or local cultivators with complex expressions.

"The awakening of the evil god has polluted the entire world. This pure land under our feet is like a lonely boat in an angry sea, ready to capsize at any moment. Fighting on our own is a dead end. Scattered forces will only be swallowed by the darkness one by one."

His tone was unhurried, carrying a strange, convincing logical power.

"Therefore, I propose that, with the ancestor's incense and faith as the core, and all of us survivors as the cornerstone, we integrate everything that can be integrated—military, R&D, logistics, intelligence... and establish a brand-new, unified front that transcends race and origin."

He opened his arms, his eyes becoming sharp and fiery.

"This organization will be our only sharp sword against the apocalypse, the final bastion for us to guard this world. I propose its name be—"

"**World Guardian Alliance!**"

As the words fell, the player faction erupted with cheers and applause like a mountain torrent or tsunami.

They were already used to this guild-style organizational model and had no objections to this proposal.

But the local cultivators fell into a dead silence.

An alliance?

Who would lead it?

Who would have the final say?

Let them, these high-and-mighty holy land cultivators, sit on equal footing with a group of "demons" with bizarre behavior and no sense of awe?

Or even... be subordinate to them?

"I object!" A white-haired elder from the holy land stepped out from the crowd. He was bristling with rage, his face full of grief and indignation. "We cultivators have inherited the ancient Daoist tradition; how can we associate with the likes of you demonic heretics! This is a great humiliation!"

"Tradition?" Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation sat with his legs crossed, speaking lazily. "Old man, can your tradition help you block the claws of an aberrant body, or can it help you purify the evil god's pollution? No? Then it's useless right now."

"You... you are presumptuous!" The elder trembled with rage.

"Quiet!" Outlaw Zhang San raised his hand, stopping the commotion.

He ignored the elder and cast his gaze directly at Ji Haoyue.

He knew that this person was the decision-making core of all local cultivators.

"Ninth Prince, I will only ask you three questions."

"First, besides us, who else on this land can protect your people?"

"Second, besides the 'holy light grenade,' what other way do you have to counter the endless evil god's kin?"

"Third, when the darkness swallows everything and the world returns to nothingness, what will be left of the 'tradition' and 'dignity' you hold onto?"

The three questions, like three heavy hammers, smashed fiercely onto Ji Haoyue's heart.

He was silent, countless images flashing through his mind: the crumbling holy land, the fellow sect members who went mad after being polluted, the people kneeling before him crying for help, and... the cold and pitying gaze of Fairy Yunshang when she was bathed in black light and "ascended" to become the Chief Apostle.

That's right... what would be left?

He slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, all the struggle, unwillingness, and humiliation in his eyes had turned into a deep sense of determination.

He knew that one era had already ended.

And to survive and embrace the new era, one must abandon the decay and arrogance of the old era.

Under everyone's gaze, Ji Haoyue walked step by step to the center of the council hall.

There, a flag had just been raised by two players.

The design of the flag was simple and crude to the extreme—on a pitch-black background was a glittering golden coffin, and above the coffin floated the image of a kindly aunt.

Absurd, strange, and even a bit funny.

But this was the totem of this new era.

Ji Haoyue took a deep breath.

He straightened his clothes, which were disheveled but still elegant, and then, facing the strangely-styled flag, facing Outlaw Zhang San beneath the flag, facing the ancestor's phantom, and facing all the players present...

Slowly, he bent the waist that had been proud for half his life.

With the most solemn etiquette of the holy land, he bowed deeply, reaching the ground.

"Qingxi Ji Clan, Ji Haoyue, leading three hundred and seventy-two remnants of the holy land, is willing to join the alliance, follow orders, and fight the apocalypse together."

His voice was not loud, but it sounded like a thunderclap in the ears of all the local cultivators.

"Your Highness!"

"You must not, Your Highness!"

His followers let out mournful cries, and some even wanted to rush up to help him up.

But Ji Haoyue did not move.

He maintained his bowed posture, using his actions to show everyone his determination.

The white-haired elder who had previously strongly opposed it looked at Ji Haoyue's back, tears streaming from his cloudy old eyes.

He opened his mouth, but in the end, he said nothing, just let his hands hang down powerlessly.

The bowing of a king was not submission, but to shoulder the hope of more people.

Outlaw Zhang San watched this scene quietly, a flash of approval in his eyes.

He stepped forward and personally helped Ji Haoyue up.

"Welcome, Ji Haoyue. From today on, we are comrades-in-arms."

In his hand, he didn't know when a badge had appeared; the design of the badge was exactly the "golden coffin and a popular chinese chili sauce brand, used here as a symbolic name for the weapon" flag.

He personally pinned this badge onto Ji Haoyue's chest.

At this moment, the alliance was truly established.

An organization led by the most unreasonable "fourth calamity," joined by the proudest traditional cultivators, complex in composition, bizarre in style, yet bearing the last hope of the entire world... the Guardian Alliance.

And what no one noticed was that amidst the clamor of the alliance's establishment and the attention of the masses, at the highest point of the shelter, the ancestor's blurry spiritual body seemed to pierce through the endless space, looking toward the other end of the continent—Fairy Yunshang's territory, which was shrouded in black light, where even the whispers of the evil god had become orderly.

His spiritual body showed a trace of imperceptible, cold fluctuation.

This newly promoted "Chief Apostle" was a bit too quiet.

This was more unsettling than any crazy attack.