Ye Zhao stood atop the castle, his gaze steady and sharp as he observed the gathering of 108 gods.
Each deity was unique, yet their collective aura carried a suffocating pressure.
Some of them resembled humans, clad in intricate golden armor that gleamed against the swirling storm.
Their faces radiated divine authority, their presence screaming perfection, as though sculpted by the cosmos itself.
Others took on beast-like forms, towering over their counterparts with primal might.
Claws, horns, and fangs glinted in the unnatural light, their glowing eyes locked on Ye Zhao with predatory hunger.
There were those who appeared female, their forms accentuated by flowing robes and revealing divine garments, their beauty as dangerous as it was enchanting.
And then there were the gods who had abandoned mortal aesthetics altogether... spirits of astral energy, their translucent forms flickering like stars in a void.
