Chapter 713: Chapter 605: Level 9!

On the battlefield, Jeming was harvesting.

The Great Light Appearance’s halo slowly rotated above his head, and the Fire Extinction Divine Light poured down like a torrential rain.

Suddenly, he felt a heaviness descend upon his body.

It didn’t feel like an attack or extreme fatigue, but more like an irresistible weight rising from the depths of his soul.

His knees buckled uncontrollably, his spine groaned under the strain, and the halo of the Great Light Appearance trembled violently, the beams beginning to veer off target.

Jeming gritted his teeth, the Body Refining Technique madly operating, trying to resist this sudden pressure.

But his body felt as if it were being crushed by an invisible mountain, every muscle trembling, every breath requiring his utmost effort.

"What is this..."

He laboriously lifted his head.

Jeming felt as if the world around him had changed in an instant.

The creatures of the Alliance of Ten Thousand Realms, still struggling in the void, were like insects pressed down by an invisible hand, all sprawling on the ground, unable to move.

Sixth Level, Seventh Level, Eighth Level, regardless of grade or race, all were pressed to immobility.

The massive bodies of the Starry Sky Giant Beasts quivered in the void, the Scale Armor Beastmen lay prostrate, unable to lift their heads, and the Energy Aggregations were compressed into fist-sized luminous spheres, frantically flashing distress signals.

And beside Jeming, the Sixth Level Wizards had pale faces; some had already gone down on one knee, some barely stood with hands on their knees, while others had blood seeping from the corners of their mouths.

The Seventh Level Wizards fared no better; though they hadn’t fallen to their knees, each wore a grave expression, their breathing heavy, their internal energy fluctuations chaotic.

Jeming felt his consciousness blurring.

The pressure was not just a physical force, but a crushing on the mental plane as well.

He felt like an ant facing an overturning sky, small, powerless, and in constant danger of being crushed.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

Clark’s voice came from above, still calm: "Stand firm."

The overwhelming pressure was instantly isolated outside.

Jeming gasped for breath, raising his head to see Clark standing next to him at some unknown moment, one hand on his shoulder, the other hovering in the void.

Not only Professor Clark, but the Tier Eight Wizards present also spread their auras, shielding the nearby wizards from the terrifying pressure.

Viola staggered over from the side, her face pale, lips blue.

Clark’s other hand touched her shoulder, and she immediately clutched onto him like a drowning person grabbing driftwood, collapsing with deep breaths.

"Professor..." Viola’s voice trembled, "What on earth is this..."

Clark did not answer.

He looked up at a distant space rift, his deep gaze appearing to confirm something.

After a moment, he slowly spoke, his voice so calm it was as if he were not describing a disaster: "It seems you’ll gain some knowledge today."

Jeming looked in the direction of his gaze.

The distant space rift trembled.

Jeming felt a daze as if the rift was trembling with submission and reverence.

The scattered spatial fragments at the rift’s edge, seemingly tamed by some power, ceased their flight, hanging quietly in place.

The dense darkness inside the rift began retreating to the sides, like a curtain being drawn back.

Then, It appeared.

Just a blurred silhouette, floating in the center of the rift.

It did not have the enormous body of a Starry Sky Giant Beast, nor the brilliant glow of an Energy Aggregation, merely a humanoid outline too obscure to discern details.

But Its very presence was like a star plunging into the deep sea.

The entire void realigned itself for Its existence, elements gathered toward It, space bent around It, and time became viscous in It proximity.

The creatures of the Alliance of Ten Thousand Realms, pressed to the ground, now lifted their heads as if in pilgrimage, fervent light radiating from their eyes.

Jeming understood the meaning behind his professor’s earlier words.

Ninth Level!

Though he had never seen it firsthand before, Jeming was now certain that... was the Ninth Level!

"Leader!"

"The Leader has arrived!"

"We are saved!"

Cheers surged like a tsunami.

The Eighth Level creatures, who were struggling in despair just moments ago, now seemed invigorated as if injected with chicken blood.

A Starry Sky Giant Beast struggled to lift its head, roaring with its last ounce of strength: "This is our Leader! You wizards, prepare to die!"

The Scale Armor Beastman commander crawled up.

His face still bore traces of earlier fear, now replaced by a fanatical grin.

He looked towards the wizards, his voice hoarse yet triumphant: "Ninth Level! Do you know what Ninth Level is? Before our Leader, you are ants!"

More cheers rolled in from all directions.

The creatures of the Alliance of Ten Thousand Realms, once suppressed, slaughtered, and cornered, now jeered and cursed madly as if pumped with adrenaline.

Hope rekindled in their eyes.

They are very certain, confident that their leader can crush everything, that these wizards will pay the price, that victory ultimately belongs to them.

The wizards from the parallel world had their expressions completely changed.

Those wizards who had just signed contracts and were adapting to new lives felt drained of all strength at the sight of that silhouette.

Some collapsed to the ground, some covered their faces, and others trembled, curling up into a ball.

"Ninth Level..." murmured a Seventh Level Wizard, tears in their voice, "they really have a Ninth Level..."

"It’s over." Another Eighth Level Wizard closed their eyes, voice parched, "We’re finished. They never had a Ninth Level before... we always thought it was just a rumor..."

"No wonder they could devour so many planes... no wonder..."

"It’s over..." he murmured, voice so soft as if afraid of disturbing something, "all over..."

More wizards from the parallel worlds began to kneel.

Some held their heads and cried bitterly, some tore at their hair, and others trembled, curling up into a ball.

They had just seen hope, had just thought they finally wouldn’t have to flee anymore, wouldn’t have to struggle, that the first thing they did upon waking each day wouldn’t be confirming they were still alive—and then fate told them it was all an illusion.

Despair spread among the crowd.

Those parallel world wizards had gone through countless doomsday wars, faced countless dire situations, but never had they been this desperate.

Because the enemies they faced before, no matter how powerful, were of the same level.

But a Ninth Level... that was another tier of existence, a tier they didn’t even have the right to look up to.

The Sixth Level Wizards beside Jeming also looked grim.

While they weren’t as despairing as the wizards of the parallel world, the pressure emanating from the silhouette was terrifying.

Even with the aura of an Eighth Level Wizard helping to resist, the pressure was still terrifying enough to instinctively make them feel fear.

Someone instinctively stepped back, someone gripped their magic staff tightly, and someone else began instinctively checking their escape array.

Jeming looked at Clark.

Clark’s expression didn’t change, his hand still firmly resting on Jeming’s shoulder, that barrier isolating the pressure didn’t move at all.

But his gaze remained locked on that silhouette, never moving away.

Vord stood at the back of the alliance, looking towards the rift, his expression complex and difficult to understand.

He used to be a supreme council member of the parallel world, more clear than anyone about what a Ninth Level signifies.

It is the ultimate deterrent of a civilization, an insurmountable barrier, a gap that no amount of numbers can bridge.

He knew when he defected that the Alliance of Ten Thousand Realms had a Ninth Level, but he had never seen that individual act.

Now he had.

That pressure penetrated the entire void, penetrated all barriers and defenses, pressing directly on everyone’s soul.

Just existing was enough to make billions of troops bow their heads.

The Eighth Level Wizards of the four major powers were instead silent at this moment.

Those Eighth Level Wizards who had just been excitedly reaping enemies had all stopped now.

They hovered in the void, looking at that blurry silhouette in the direction of the rift. Unlike the wizards of the parallel world, they weren’t despairing, nor were they exuberant like the Alliance of Ten Thousand Realms.

They merely hovered in the void, looking up at that rift, their expressions somewhat odd.

In the direction of the rift, that silhouette moved.

It took a step forward, just a simple step, yet the entire void fell silent in that moment.

The cheers of the Alliance of Ten Thousand Realms halted abruptly, the cries of the wizards from the parallel world disappeared, even the fragments of space that were scattering stopped floating.

All sounds, all lights, all presence were consumed by that silhouette.

It hovered in front of the rift, its form still blurry, but its presence strong enough to seemingly fill the entire world.

Jeming felt his consciousness being dragged, drawn towards that silhouette, being swallowed into that vague darkness.

He bit his tongue hard, the acute pain bringing him back to clarity.

Clark’s hand tightened slightly.

"Don’t look at its main body." Clark’s voice remained calm, but carried a hint of warning, "Just looking at the silhouette is enough."

Jeming lowered his head, not daring to look again.

His back was already soaked in cold sweat.

That silhouette just stood there, did nothing, yet he almost lost his consciousness.

If it really made a move...

Someone of his strength would have no power to fight back at all.

In the void, that blurry silhouette tilted its head slightly, as if scrutinizing the wizards before it.

Its gaze swept over the hundred thousand Eighth Level Wizards, the four gigantic war machines, and those still trembling wizards from parallel worlds.

Then it stopped, seemingly looking at something.

Jeming realized that the gaze was likely on the Eighth Level Wizards of the four major powers.

Within that gaze there was no anger or intent to kill, just a superior kind of scrutiny, like an adult looking at a group of noisy children.

Then it spoke.

The voice wasn’t loud, yet it reached everyone’s ears clearly, calm, low, with a hint of weariness: "Seems you’ve been making quite a ruckus..."

(An extra Chapter today, there’s still one more.)

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.