The job change is a bizarre and calamity; the nation begs me to tone it down.

Chapter 401: Heaven has summoned this old man who's hundreds of years old! There's a surprise inside, click here to unlock now.

All seven tokens lit up simultaneously.

On the sphere of light of the Night Watcher's astrolabe, seven points of light simultaneously changed from dim to bright.

The suspended sphere of light slowly unfolded, transforming into a massive circular light screen.

Seven figures appeared one by one on the light screen.

Some are clear, some are blurry.

Some backgrounds are snow-capped mountain peaks, while others are deep-sea underwater, but all the faces bear an extremely similar expression.

If I had to describe that expression in one word—

It means "urgent".

An eagerness for power, an eagerness to break through bottlenecks.

An eagerness for that "key"!

Zhang Daoxuan stood in front of the control panel, his gaze sweeping across the seven people on the screen from left to right.

Every name and every face was familiar to him.

Not only are they familiar, but they are also very well-known.

These seven individuals, while not representing all of the Sherlock Holmes' Watchmen, are undoubtedly the most promising candidates to advance from demigods to the Origin level.

In other words, these seven are the seven swords of the Divine Xia Empire that are closest to the "Source Level".

The first one, and the first to appear on the light screen, was Wang Cang, the [Silent Extinction] King.

On the screen, he was smoking a pipe, his hair was gray, he wore baggy pants and a white vest, looking like a farmer.

However, although he doesn't seem to be harmful, his codename "Annihilation" is not given for nothing.

The second is Shen Wuyuan, the guardian of the Qinling Underground Palace.

On the screen, his face was cold and stern, and he was as tall and thin as a dried bamboo pole.

Deep-set eyes and prominent cheekbones.

The person standing there gave the impression of a sword that had been sharpened down to its blade.

The dark blue dimensional rift behind him was faintly visible in the light curtain.

Every now and then, unknown tentacles would peek out from the crack, only to be slapped back by him without even turning his head.

The scene looked like he was playing whack-a-mole, and judging by his skill, he'd probably been playing for decades.

The third is Liu Tingchao, the guardian of the South China Sea Ruins.

a woman.

Covered in seaweed and sitting on the coral reef, it looked like a guest stepping out of a high-end VIP room at Haidilao.

Her hair was wet and clung to her cheeks.

But her features are still clearly discernible—the kind of dignified elegance that even hundreds of years of soaking in seawater cannot wash away.

As she tilted her head to look at the light screen, a half-smile played on her lips.

That laugh reminded Zhang Daoxuan of an old saying—a woman's laugh is the most dangerous, and a female demigod's laugh is the most deadly.

The westernmost guardian of the Changbai Mountain pool is Helian Shu, known as the "Ice Coffin."

He looked to be around ten years old, and was as strong as a wall.

Standing in the middle of the icy blue lake, the water reached his waist, but within three feet of him, the water was completely frozen into solid ice crystals.

Fifth, the guardian of Shennong Mountain – Elder Ge of Fengci.

He was short, stout, bald, and always had a kind smile on his face.

He looks like one of those retired old men from the next neighborhood who specializes in health and wellness.

If it weren't for the token hanging from his waist, no one would guess that the old man squatting on the ground watering flowers was a true demigod.

But Zhang Daoxuan knew very well that the "medicine" that this old man Ge used was not medicine to cure diseases and save lives.

The sixth, the guardian of Hengjiang Tianyuan – [Lone Crane] Su Changqing.

White cloak.

His face was obscured—because his hood was pulled low, only the lower half of his face could be seen on the screen.

His thin lips were pressed tightly together, and his jawline was strong.

The seventh is Tang Yi, the guardian of Aiyun Mountain, also known as the Prison Guardian.

On the screen, he appeared to be a middle-aged man in his fifties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and big eyes, wearing an old military uniform.

The uniform style is at least ten years old, and one of the buttons on the collar is fastened incorrectly.

Seven demigods.

The guardians of the seven most important strategic nodes of the Divine Xia Empire.

Seven swords that are closest to the source level.

Everyone's here.

Zhang Daoxuan quickly reviewed the list in his mind, and after confirming that it was correct, he bowed slightly and spoke respectfully.

"Esteemed seniors, I have gathered you all here today—"

"Alright, alright, enough nonsense, this is none of your business!"

Wang Cang's voice burst out from the light screen, completely silencing Zhang Daoxuan's subsequent words.

The old man, with a pipe dangling from his mouth, waved his hand impatiently.

The way they acted was like urging the vendor to weigh the vegetables at a market.

"Alright, stop pretending. Everyone here was lured here by that light, right?"

At this point, he took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling twice in the light screen before drifting to the side: "Stop being so formal, tell me—how many to send, and how many to keep?"

Zhang Daoxuan was momentarily speechless, but he wasn't annoyed at all.

It's not because I have a good temper.

It's because when facing a demigod, getting angry is useless, and even if you do get angry, you don't dare to show it.

And to be honest, although Wang Cang speaks a bit roughly, he is indeed very insightful.

However, before he could answer, another voice interrupted from the screen.

"Old Wang, what's the rush?"

She tilted her head, her tone languid and unsettling: "The younger generation went to great lengths to set the stage, and you, with a single sentence, ruined it all."

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.

"Old Wang, what's the rush?"

The speaker was Liu Tingchao from Guixu in the South China Sea.

She tilted her head, her tone languid and unsettling: "The younger generation went to great lengths to set the stage, and you, with a single sentence, ruined it all."

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.

The speaker was Liu Tingchao from Guixu in the South China Sea.

She tilted her head, her tone languid and unsettling: "The younger generation went to great lengths to set the stage, and you, with a single sentence, ruined it all."

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.

"Old Wang, what's the rush?"

The speaker was Liu Tingchao from Guixu in the South China Sea.

She tilted her head, her tone languid and unsettling: "The younger generation went to great lengths to set the stage, and you, with a single sentence, ruined it all."

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.

"Old Wang, what's the rush?"

The speaker was Liu Tingchao from Guixu in the South China Sea.

She tilted her head, her tone languid and unsettling: "The younger generation went to great lengths to set the stage, and you, with a single sentence, ruined it all."

"Give me some face, will you?"

"Give me any face whatsoever!"

Wang Cang slammed his pipe into the ground and raised his voice even higher: "This kid, he never orders you guys around, but he's always ordering around this old man who's hundreds of years old!"

"Ask him yourself. In just these past few months, how many trips have I, this old man, made? I've made two trips just for that little brat named Gu Xu!"

"It's already a miracle he hasn't been spanked yet!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Daoxuan, who was standing to the side, wasn't angry. He just smiled awkwardly and said, "Look at what you're saying. Senior Wang, in our Divine Xia's demigod circle, you are powerful and have a steady personality!"

"If we don't let you go, who else can we send?"

But clearly, this praise wasn't very effective.

Wang Cang glared, puffed out his beard, and cursed, "Go away, don't try to flatter me. This old man doesn't fall for that."

"I'll say it again!"

"Who goes, who stays?"

After those words were spoken, the screen remained silent for a full three seconds.

Three seconds.

For the average person, it's just a matter of blinking twice.

But for the seven demigods, the amount of information exchanged in those three seconds was probably more than what the command headquarters could hold in a whole day.

That kind of communication doesn't rely entirely on language.

More often than not, it relies on the tacit understanding that comes from decades or even centuries of long-standing friendships.

Whose defense zone can be temporarily relinquished, and whose cannot?

Who has a more urgent desire for "that light," and who can wait a little longer? Who is more capable of seizing it, and who is better suited to stay and guard the home base?

These judgments were largely made within three seconds of silence.