"Compared to other narrative species, the Dragon Island Tribes still adhere to capitalism in their ideology. These behemoths have strength but cannot unite, which doesn't align with our narrative values. They merely rely on their longevity and wealth accumulation to constantly fluctuate within the top ten of rankings."

Aishil Corpse Pact coldly said:

"A country, a nation, a person, needs unity and must continuously innovate to keep the blood flowing. Throughout history, countless dynasties have changed, powers have reshuffled; those who fall behind are either overthrown by revolution or invaded by foreign races. But no empire has been able to permanently maintain the vibrant vitality like our Crimson Blood Alliance. Why is that?"

"Is there even a need to ask?" The representative of the Rising Sun Clan sneered, "Everyone knows why."

"Because we are constantly revolutionizing ourselves," the representative of the Hundred Clouds Clan said with a slight smile. "In other narratives, either limited by the dominant ethnic group, restricted by a fixed culture, the original thinking and thoughts continue to operate firmly, eventually becoming rigid, decayed, completely turning into relics of an era. But we continuously replace species."

The representative of the Temporal Angel Clan said:

"Just like the body continuously metabolizes, removes old cells, and replaces with fresh blood, our narrative is strong because we constantly destroy and kill ourselves, allowing fresh and powerful newcomers to ascend the ruling sequence."

"Life is like water; it moves actively but when static, it dies in silence."

The representative of the People of the Moon concluded:

"Dragon Island has fallen too far behind."

"When their strength is insufficient, they don't think about reforming their internal structure and introducing external advantages. Instead, they rely on recalling scattered children and using mercenaries for competitions, which is simply ludicrous."

Aishil calmly said:

"In the narrative of the Alliance, you can be unscrupulous, unfaithful, disloyal, unfilial, unkind, and without sorrow, but you must be strong. Even if you exhaust every means and employ disgraceful practices, even if you backstab an ally, as long as you can become the strongest, it proves one thing: this era's narrative requires a species like yours to lead."

"A tyrant has its own extermination, and a wicked person has its own grind. But the Dragon Race doesn't even have the courage to commit evil."

"Such a species is like an appendix; besides causing inflammation, it has no significance. It should be removed early to avoid wasting the body's energy for nourishment."

"I've long been displeased with these Dragon races, each of them guarding money without doing anything, and being opportunistic everywhere. They simply don't understand what racism is."

"Moreover, the capital accumulated by the Dragon Race over the years is so abundant, yet they don't use it for redistribution. Instead, they give it to other narratives, especially to the Layer Abyss narrative. The Dragon Race has given them plenty of money, which completely provides Layer Abyss the opportunity to interfere in our Border Abyss affairs!"

People were indignant, either disappointed in the Dragon Race's shortcomings or outright displeased, some displayed greed.

No matter how you slice it, the Dragon Race has lost its public support and is no longer recognized by the top five allied tribes.

How to deal with the Dragon Race had actually been decided before the meeting even began, but they used the excuse of a banquet to facilitate networking and enhance relationships.

The narrative of racism allows the lower ranks to act shamelessly, group together, and force confrontation, naturally permitting the upper leaders to unite and exchange through marriage.

The Alliance only needs a strong species to be the chief. As for which species that might be? It doesn't care.

No one cares.

Anyway, everyone here and everywhere else is just part of this grand narrative.

"Since that's the case, let's begin the voting."

Aishil initiated the proposal:

"All representatives, agree to concentrate fire in next year's tribe ranking contest and eliminate all Dragon Race contestants, raise your left hand; disagree, raise your right hand."

With almost no time for discussion, the voting was already completed.

The Shadow Warrior stepped forward, beginning the count:

"Those who raised their left hand are 5, those who raised their right hand are 1."

After speaking, even he was slightly stunned.

Aishil Corpse Pact glanced at the Shadow Warrior:

"Six votes?"

"This, I don't know why there is an extra one, Corpse Pact sir."

"Are you kidding me? Where does the sixth species come from? The Nether, Rising Sun, Temporal Domain, Hundred Clouds, People of the Moon — aren't there only five?"

The quick-tempered representative of the Rising Sun Clan stood up and roared:

"Who exactly is joking around here? Do you want to rebel against the grand narrative?"

"It's me."

A tall man slowly stood up in the dimly lit back of the meeting room, heavily armored, covered in crimson demonic patterns, with a ram's horns extending forward from his helmet, resembling a fierce and sinister demon.

"You? Where did you come from! This is a place for the Alliance's elite gathering, report your species name; unranked entities are prohibited from entering the venue."

When the armored man straightened up, the entire room was instantly enveloped by an eerie, dense atmosphere, like an iron curtain had descended, even breathing felt delayed and difficult.

"This aura—so strange!"

"Seems unlike the Pathway's strength."

"He's not from Starry Abyss!"

The people present were alert and cautious.

"Who are you?" Aishil Corpse Pact asked calmly, "Judging from the aura, you're not purely from the humanoid tribes, and the power on you isn't Pathway, it must be your Bloodline power. Which species are you a strong presence of, tell us."

"Must I reveal my species?"

The man retorted.

"Your name doesn't matter," Aishil replied, "We in the Alliance don't bother about what individuals are called; your species and ranking are crucial."

"I see, no wonder it's the Border Abyss's toughest narrative."

The man spoke while raising his hand, pressing on the iron mask of the ram devil, eliciting a hammering sound like striking an iron anvil:

"(Chinese) I am an Earthling."

"According to Starry Abyss's terminology, I belong to the C3-'Luca' type Cosmic Human Race."

"Of course, you might be more familiar with another term."

Magic armor drives blades inward, cutting into the blood vessel pulse, and a large amount of silver-white blood gushed out from between the armor cracks.

Silver-white blood instantly became invisible and colorless when mixed with air but quickly surged with the airflow.

The carpet under the man's feet instantly carbonized, even the force of the wind was enough to destroy it; wherever the air spread, life force was entirely deprived, falling upon present personnel's bodies, infiltrating through pores, skin contact, and respiratory organs entering the internal circulation system, eventually invading the spine, aggressively replacing the original blood system.

A large number of attendees succumbed to breathlessness one by one, suddenly collapsing and dying on the spot, then their bodies fell down, turning into black ash and dispersed with the wind.

"Ugh—air is toxic! Go quickly—ugh!"

"Spellcasters hurry and initiate the Vacuum Technique! Martial Artists hold their breath, concentrate, open Gang Qi protection! Damn! How can this thing be so toxic, detoxifying techniques are useless..."

"This is..."

Aishil melted into the shadows, moments later, emerged from the beams, and the breathless Nether Clan only realized what they were facing:

"—Ether Poison Blood!"

He lowered his head to gaze at the magic armored man standing on the ground, said solemnly:

"You belong to the Society's people!"

"Secret Society's Thirteen Councillors, the Blacksmith."

The magic armored man lightly smiled and said:

"In the name of Lichi Peak, we shall hammer and reforge you racialists."

Next moment, he grasped the void, countless crimson demonic patterns eroded the space, continuously proliferating and expanding.

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