The Sacred Spirits Yang Kai had brought out of the Tai Xu Realm nearly numbered over a hundred.
Yet now, only around sixty stood before him.
Nearly three thousand years of brutal warfare had reduced their numbers by a staggering forty percent. And these were Sacred Spirits — every one of them more powerful than a human cultivator of the same rank. One could only imagine how many great battles they had endured over the years.
Still, though their numbers were diminished, they remained a terrifyingly powerful force. Every last one among them was an Eighth-Order Sacred Spirit, each one comparable to a human Eighth-Order master — and in truth, their strength surpassed that of their human counterparts.
Their ancestors, for various reasons, had been sealed within the Tai Xu Realm by the Old Tree's methods. In that peculiar environment, no matter how their bloodlines evolved and refined, they could never unleash their full potential.
Take Zhu Jiuyin, whom Yang Kai had brought out of the Tai Xu Realm back then — she too was an Eighth-Order Sacred Spirit, yet under the realm's suppression, her strength had been severely diminished. Only after leaving the Tai Xu Realm and spending years recovering in the Void Land had she gradually regained her proper level.
These dozens of Sacred Spirits had been out of the Tai Xu Realm for nearly three thousand years now, long since adapting to the laws of the outside world.
Roughly eighty percent were Eighth-Order Sacred Spirits, with the remaining twenty at the Seventh Order. Among the Eighth-Order, several possessed auras so sharp and fierce that they might well advance to the Ninth Order in the future — reaching the pinnacle.
Having spent so many years locked in savage combat, these Sacred Spirits carried with them a palpable killing intent, interwoven with the majesty of their sacred bloodlines, a presence that commanded both awe and fear.
Their very presence made the Artifact Refiners and Formation Masters bustling about on the Retreat Platform give them a wide berth.
That said, the further a Sacred Spirit's bloodline progressed, the more difficult advancement became. This was no longer the primordial age when the heavens favored the Sacred Spirits above all others. Now, it was exceedingly rare for one to reach the Ninth Order.
Fu Guang of the Dragon Clan had cultivated in the Dragon Pool for countless years, yet he still needed Yang Kai's help to ascend to the rank of Sacred Dragon.
As for the Phoenix Clan, since the Phoenix Empress of the Void Domain had fallen, no one had emerged worthy of inheriting her mantle. Bloodline advancement was not a matter of living long enough — it depended on one's inherited legacy. Without a sufficient legacy, no amount of years would make a difference.
Yang Kai swept his gaze across the assembled Sacred Spirits, then cupped his fists and bowed. "You have all worked hard these past years."
The solemn atmosphere instantly eased. One of the Sacred Spirits smiled and said, "My Lord, you are too kind. It was merely our duty."
Yang Kai glanced at the speaker and nodded slightly, a gentle smile on his face. "When I first brought you all out of the Tai Xu Realm, I made a three-thousand-year pact with you, and you all swore a grand oath upon your very origins. Now, the time has nearly…" He paused, raising his hand to count on his fingers.
A small voice from below called out, "Seventy-nine more years until the three-thousand-year pact is fulfilled."
A chorus of agreement followed: "That's right, that's right!"
Yang Kai looked up and chuckled. "You all remember quite clearly."
The Sacred Spirits chuckled along. How could they not remember every detail? This was a matter of their Origin Oaths.
Yang Kai clasped his hands behind his back and continued, "When I asked you to swear those oaths, I told you that once the three-thousand-year pact expired, you would be free. Naturally, I have no intention of breaking that promise. However, I'm sure you are all aware of the current state of the world. Allow me to ask — once the pact ends, where do you all intend to go?"
The Sacred Spirits below exchanged glances, each reading the same helplessness in the others' eyes.
By now, they knew full well that Yang Kai had tricked them all those years ago. When they first left the Tai Xu Realm, they had no idea what awaited them out here.
The three-thousand-year pact was almost over, but even with their freedom, where could they possibly go?
A burly figure with a bull's head spoke up. "My Lord, the world now belongs to the Ink Clan. We have nowhere to go. I'm afraid our only choice is to fight alongside humanity and drive out the invaders. When the time comes, I hope My Lord will not refuse us — allow us to serve on the front lines."
Yang Kai looked at the speaker and recognized him as Zhu Jian. He was somewhat surprised — he had assumed the Sacred Spirits would want to distance themselves from the battlefield once freed. He hadn't expected them to possess such a sense of duty.
Feeling a measure of gratification, he asked, "Is this what all of you think?"
One of the Sacred Spirits answered honestly, "We've already boarded the pirate ship. How could we possibly get off?"
This drew quiet laughter from many of the others.
Yang Kai nodded. "The fact that you all see it this way is a blessing for humanity, and for this entire world. I, Yang Kai, swear upon my Origin — for as long as I live, I will drive the Ink Clan to extinction and eliminate the Ink menace entirely. When the rivers run clear and the seas are calm once more, I will share a drink with each and every one of you. And on that day, you will be the heroes of this world, blessed by the heavens, and perhaps you will restore the glory of your ancestors!"
As his words fell, a resplendent golden dragon's shadow flickered into existence behind Yang Kai before vanishing — the supernatural phenomenon accompanying a sworn Origin Oath.