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

The tremor lasted only about three seconds.

Immediately afterwards, Gu Xu saw that about thirty meters ahead, the broken bones and rubble began to separate on their own.

The debris on both sides looked as if it had been brushed aside by an unseen hand.

They retreated to the left or right.

A flat area of ​​ground was revealed underneath.

The ground was black with fine lines flowing slowly, and in no time, those lines formed a circular pattern.

Teleportation array.

A brand new teleportation array.

"As expected, there's another level."

Seeing this, Gu Xu didn't say anything, but turned to look behind him.

At this moment, the ghost bride stood not far away, her red wedding dress fluttering in the remaining black mist of calamity.

A pair of red eyes were quietly watching Gu Xu.

Gu Xuchong nodded.

"Wife, lift the sedan chair."

The ghost bride smiled slightly and nodded.

The next second, a thick shadow spread out from beneath her feet.

The shadow expanded rapidly, spreading out a black area on the ground that was more than ten meters long.

Immediately afterwards, the Styx Ghost Carriage slowly rose from the shadows.

Gu Xu walked over, lifted the curtain, and plopped down inside.

"Walk."

After settling into a comfortable position, Gu Xuchong raised his chin at the teleportation array in front of him and then waved his hand.

The Styx Ghost Carriage slowly began to move, drifting towards the teleportation array.

The other servants of calamity followed eagerly after them.

The Styx Ghost Carriage hovered briefly above the teleportation array.

Dark purple patterns lit up at the bottom of the sedan chair, and the light spread outward from the center of the formation, enveloping the entire team.

Gu Xu felt a slight dizziness.

My vision dimmed for a moment.

Then—it lit up.

When Gu Xu refocused his gaze, he saw a completely different scene.

……

Let's rewind the timeline a bit.

Just as Gu Xu was pinning the Great God Huang Quanjin down on a pile of broken bones and stomping on his face in the Cloud Realm of Ghosts.

The central location of the Pacific Ocean remains the focus of global attention.

Because, at this moment, something is floating there.

Saying it "floats" isn't quite accurate, because this thing is so big that the word "floats" seems too inadequate to describe it.

It was a seven-colored rhombus-shaped sphere of light.

It is entirely seven-colored, with red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, each color flowing slowly across the surface of the sphere.

It's as if someone crumpled the entire rainbow into a ball, flattened it, and then puffed it up again.

It eventually solidified into this thing.

What's even more outrageous is its size.

If you look down at the Pacific Ocean from a satellite perspective, you'll see that there's an area in that vast expanse of blue with an off-color.

Above that area was a halo of seven colors.

The area covered by the halo... is roughly equivalent to the land area of ​​a medium-sized island nation.

Yes, that's right, it's about the size of an island nation.

This is neither a natural phenomenon nor a large-scale gathering of bioluminescent marine organisms.

These are fragments of a higher-dimensional secret realm.

Fragments of a higher-dimensional secret realm where the Source of God resides.

Visibly, the seven-colored light dyed the sea surface within a radius of hundreds of kilometers into various colors.

The waves surged repeatedly at the edge of the sphere of light. Each wave crashed against the surface of the sphere, just like waves crashing against rocks, and then burst open, turning into a misty spray.

The water mist refracted in the seven-colored light, reflecting faint rainbows.

If this were in another location, it would probably be considered a popular spot for online influencers, and photos posted on social media would easily garner hundreds of likes.

But now—no one is taking pictures.

Because none of the people standing here can stay still.

……

Dozens of figures hovered around the sphere of light.

It wasn't an ordinary human figure.

Each person emanates energy fluctuations that cause the sea surface to deform, like placing magnets together, each one repelling the others while pushing against each other.

Neither side would allow the other to get too close to the sphere of light beyond a certain limit.

Here in Sherlock.

Wang Cang stood at the front, a pipe in his mouth, his eyes fixed on the ball of light.

Those old eyes, which were usually half-closed in the smoke, were unusually wide open at this moment.

Old Ge followed behind, his bald head reflecting the colorful light. His usually smiling face had lost its Maitreya Buddha expression; he patted his belly and looked ahead.

Tang Yi remained silent, standing upright.

The three of them standing together were second to none in terms of presence.

But what made Wang Cang click his tongue in disbelief was—

There are quite a lot of people here.

He glanced around, took the pipe out of his mouth, tapped it against his lips, and whispered something in a voice only Old Ge and Tang Yi could hear.

"Damn it, is this a sports meet?"

Old Ge couldn't help but chuckle, then quickly swallowed the laugh back.

Tang Yi's eyelids twitched, but he didn't say anything.

……

In South India, the three Skywalker monks have arrived.

The Celestial Monk stood in the middle, with Yegash and Vijam on his left and right respectively.

The three were in the same formation as when they were flying on land.

The old monk Tianxing still had that kind and benevolent face of a high monk, his hands clasped together, seemingly chanting some sutra, his expression as calm as a stagnant pool.

But when he occasionally glanced at the sphere of light, the glint in his eyes was anything but like he was chanting scriptures.

Yeghash next to him was much more straightforward.

This guy no longer cared about maintaining any image; his face, full of fat, gleamed under the seven-colored light, and his breathing became noticeably heavier.

Those already small eyes stared at the ball of light, almost squinting into slits.

Vijam gripped the rosary tightly in his hand, the dark golden Sanskrit characters flowing incessantly on the surface of the beads.

It was as if he was forcing himself to stay calm.

But that unstable aura betrayed him.

The source of God.

What these three words mean to the South Indian Empire is self-evident.

……

On the cherry blossom side, Yamamoto Furukawa, Hima Yuta, and Asaba Sakura maintained the same formation they had when they entered.

Yamamoto Furukawa stood at the front, his face, still slightly swollen, expressionless in the sea breeze.

What is he thinking?

do not know.

But the way he stood there had an indescribable tension about him.

Like a bowstring that has been fully drawn, it appears still, but the string may loosen at any moment.

Even under the rainbow light, Yuta Hima's pale, ghost-like face still looked like that of a funeral home worker.

His eyes were fixed on the ball of light, his pupils slightly contracted.

Asaha Sakura wore a demon mask, her long hair fluttering in the sea breeze, and the red katana at her waist remained motionless in its sheath.

She doesn't look at the ball of light.

She was looking at people.

From Shenxia to the South Indians, and from the South Indians to several other groups, the dark eyes behind the ghost masks discreetly assessed everyone present.

Northern League, three players.

Ivan was leading the way.

This is a guy you'll remember at first glance because he's so tall, nearly 2.3 meters, standing in a crowd like an iron tower.

His deep blue eyes were as cold as ice blocks sealed in permafrost.