I chose the safe house, and the Human Alliance regretted it.

With Chen Junjie's departure, the coronation ceremony held for him came to a hasty end.

In the Alliance Hall, high-ranking officials from various countries' superhuman organizations gathered together.

On four enormous holographic screens, real-time footage of the four calamity lairs is playing in a loop.

Every scene sent chills down the spines of everyone present.

Liu Lao and other senior alliance members sat in the main seats, while Chen Junjie did not attend the meeting.

The matter they were discussing was not suitable for his presence.

The entire room fell silent; not a single person spoke.

Now, Chen Junjie's prestige among the people is too high and too great.

At this point, whoever first proposes "taking action against Chen Junjie" will undoubtedly be thrust into the spotlight.

The ordinary people at the base, in particular, have come to regard Chen Junjie as a god.

Since Chen Junjie is a citizen of China, the Chinese leadership dared not act rashly.

But the images transmitted back by the satellite are like a knife hanging over everyone's head.

The number and level of the strange beasts far exceeded any previous time.

Can humanity really stop a beast tide of this scale?

Seeing that no one spoke, Old Liu broke the silence first.

"What do you all think of the terms of the deal proposed by the disaster?"

The leaders of various supernatural organizations, including the Covenant Church, the Shiva Church, the Spirit Realm Society, the Sun Church, and the Church of All Things, looked at each other, none of them willing to speak first.

This issue is too sensitive—agreeing to the deal is tantamount to handing the savior over to the guillotine.

Those who oppose the trade will be sinners should disaster truly destroy everything.

After a moment of silence, one of the members of the Sun Cult stepped forward.

Instead of giving a direct answer, he asked indirectly, "Elder Liu, does the Prophet have a way to deal with that golden-eyed beast?"

Upon hearing this, Old Liu gently shook his head, his voice calm: "The prophet did not say it explicitly."

Upon hearing this, the expressions of the people present varied.

Logically speaking, this matter concerns Chen Junjie's life or death. If he had any solution, he would have said it already.

Not saying anything now is probably not a good sign.

Either he had no choice, or he dared not speak up.

Either way, it's unsettling.

A middle-aged man with dark skin, a high-ranking member of the Southern Continent's Myriad Things Sect, cleared his throat and spoke in a tone that conveyed "I'm in a difficult position":

"I support the Prophet, it's just that... the ordinary people in the base think the trade should happen."

With him taking the lead, the others followed suit and spoke up.

It's roughly the same idea: it's not that I want to sacrifice the Prophet, it's that the people in the base think that way.

We were also swayed by public opinion.

I personally admire prophets, but...

Dewey's face grew increasingly grim.

Those who could be easily abandoned by the lower classes can now be used to coerce them again?

How ridiculous!

He slammed his hand on the table, stood up abruptly, and his voice was filled with barely suppressed anger: "If it weren't for the prophet, how many people would be left here now?"

His gaze swept across everyone's face.

Those people avoided his gaze; not one of them dared to meet his eyes.

"The prophet saved countless people around the world," Dewey said in a deep voice. "Now, because of a disaster, is he to be sacrificed with just a word?"

A bishop of the Covenant Church put down his teacup with displeasure, his voice neither warm nor cold: "That's not how it works. Since he is a prophet, he should bear the responsibilities of a prophet. His name is not given lightly."

The members of the Spirit Realm Society echoed, "With great power comes great responsibility."

"Are we really going to drag everyone down with him?" someone interjected.

"If the prophet cannot resolve this global beast horde uprising, the most sensible option is to agree to a deal."

"right"

"..."

Immediately, everyone started talking at once, offering their own opinions.

Those who had been silent just moments before were now vying to express their "rationality."

Dewey's face was so gloomy it could drip water.

He suddenly said, "Can you guarantee that the calamities will keep their promise? Even if the prophet is willing to die generously three days later, who will guarantee that the calamities will abide by the contract? What if they take the people and then renege on their promise?"

After he finished speaking, the entire room fell silent.

This is also their biggest worry. No one can guarantee anything.

But if we refuse the deal, a full-scale war will break out in three days, given the current size of the alien beasts...

The dark-skinned man from the Southern Continent's Myriad Things Cult spoke again: "Let the prophet foresee the future! Let him foresee whether the calamity will allow him to keep his promise."

Before he could finish speaking, everyone cast strange glances his way.

Let Chen Junjie foresee whether the disaster will abide by the contract, and then die in their place?

Everyone present had actually thought of this method, but no one dared to say it aloud.

They must be from the Southern Continent; their shamelessness is truly extraordinary.

The Black man from the Church of All Things felt somewhat uncomfortable being looked at, but he quickly found a reason to do so.

He spread his hands, his face sincere: "The prophet must have loved ones still alive, right? Even if he didn't consider the whole world, he must have considered his own family."

"If he foresees the disaster and keeps his promise, then his sacrifice is meaningful. If he foresees the disaster and doesn't keep his promise, then we don't need to make the deal—doesn't that solve the problem?"

The expressions on everyone's faces changed slightly.

That's a good idea.

Old Liu remained calm and composed throughout, sitting in the main seat.

Meanwhile, in the capital city, beneath the Hengduan Mountains, and in several hidden underground worlds thousands of meters deep, the same issue is being discussed.

The teachings of all things to the Black man moved the hearts of the crowd.

He straightened his back and spoke with righteous indignation:

"It's a pity the calamity specifically targets the prophet's life. If the calamity offered me in exchange for thirty years of peace, I would definitely be the first to agree!"

His voice was firm and resounding, and his expression was righteous and awe-inspiring.

The air was quiet for a second.

Meanwhile, in the underground living area of ​​the Shangjing City base, Wang Wei was lounging lazily in a chair in a corner, casually listening to the passionate chorus of voices around him supporting Chen Junjie and resolutely disagreeing with the terms of the disaster deal.

Wang Wei closed his eyes and tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest.

He suddenly smiled – unexpectedly, someone would step forward to accompany Chen Junjie at this moment.

Ganda, the religion of all things.

The statement, "If disaster were to demand my life in exchange for thirty years of peace, I would be the first to agree," was truly powerful and deeply moving.

Wang Wei slowly closed his eyes.

The next second—

The sky over the capital suddenly changed color.

Reddish-yellow thunderclouds swept in from all directions, with lightning flashing and flickering within them.

Everyone was shocked!

"The monsters are here again?" someone screamed.

"Alert! Citywide alert!"

The superhumans within the city instantly entered combat mode, and various colored lights of their abilities rose from the city walls.

Inside the alliance meeting room, Elder Liu and others stood up with solemn expressions.

Just then, that deep, majestic voice resounded once more from the thunderclouds, echoing throughout the entire capital city:

"The contract terms have changed; one more person is needed—the Cult of All Things, Ganda!"

In the Alliance Hall, all the high-ranking officials were stunned for a moment, then turned their heads in unison to look at the same person.

Ganda, the black man from the Church of All Things, had his dark face turn a ghastly gray at a visible speed.

His lips trembled violently, and a distorted syllable squeezed out of his throat:

"NO—!"

His legs went weak, and he collapsed into the chair.

A glint of light flashed in Old Liu's eyes, followed by a hint of doubt.

This Black man from the Church of All Things was just now confidently saying, "If you want peace in exchange for me, I'll be the first to agree."

Immediately afterwards, the beast called out his name.

Is it a coincidence?

Or was their conversation always within the beast's perception range?

Or perhaps on a deeper level—could these strange beasts sense every single person in the world?

If it's the latter, then the alliance's secrets and trump cards will be as transparent as paper in the face of disaster.

A layer of cold sweat seeped out from Old Liu's back.

At the Beijing base, everyone wore expressions of confusion.

"Who is Ganda, the cult of all things?"