The eight already anxious city masters, upon seeing that their million-strong forces were dispersed by just seventy thousand men, were instantly so furious that smoke seemed to be billowing out of their seven orifices. Gritting their teeth, the city masters knew that if they did not dispose of these phantoms with the utmost urgency, this battle would likely end in a disastrous defeat. A million defeated by seventy thousand, the eight Supremes bested by two—it would be a dire humiliation, a defeat so shameful that the Eight Tribes would lose all face in the world!
But just as the eight city masters were about to burn their souls to unleash their strongest combat power, they suddenly noticed a pitch-black token the size of a palm shooting up from below. With their exceptional vision, they recognized in an instant that it was no mere token, but the World Suppressing Stele—yet even with this knowledge, they were too late to snatch it.
