Profane Prince of Domination

Chapter 543 The Last God of War Part 1

"Deities from all sides, thank you for joining us all for this once in a billion years event: The God Executing Immortal Conference!"

A grey light column descended from the sky, illuminating the arena while revealing the form of a middle-aged Paragon Spirit man. Paragon Spirits were flawed creations of the Brahma, originally meant to help them guide all living things on the path of enlightenment, their complete emotional spectrum created too great a variety of individuals, with many unsuited for such a lifestyle. Seeing this, the Brahmas reconverted them to servants and managers.

On those rare occasions that deities gathered in the Heaven Warding Temple, it was the Paragon Spirits’ duty to host and entertain them. Knowing that the Brahmas simply didn’t have the skills necessary for such tasks, none took offense. Moreover, this Paragon Spirit was one of the first of the race, created by the Warden herself, with high bloodline strength and a peak-stage Ancestral God cultivation base.

On the scene, the concealed experts aside, none was worth his presence.

"As you all know, following the fall of the third God of war, aware that this sword could unleash unending calamities, the Warden made the decision to hide it from the world, keeping it pacified in the Heaven Warding Temple. Across those billions of years, it was the Warden’s relentless blood sacrifice that allowed the sword to remain under control, thereby preventing calamities for the masses."

As his words reached that point, the Paragon Spirit Ancestor paused and heaved a deep sigh of flashy sorrow. But though they let nothing transpire on their faces, inwardly, the guests sneered. Cleary, the Warden wished to study the sword’s innumerable mysteries for personal gains and was only recently exposed.

How did it become a matter of altruism?

Naturally, knowing was one thing, saying, another. None of those deities dared expose this bit of theater.

"However, in the face of peerless treasures, friendships are forgotten and the righteous viewed in suspicion. Knowing that the world now questions the past motives, in a last show of sincerity, the Warden invited you all to settle the sword’s fate. There are no rules. Whoever wishes to lay hands on the sword is free to give it a try.

To seize or to destroy it, is all up to you!"

The Paragon Spirit Ancestor exclaimed and motioned toward the sword plunged in the stone altar.

"The God Executing Immortal Conference...officially begins!"

Following those words, the Paragon Spirit vanished in a twister of grey winds, leaving behind an oppressive silence.

None dared make a move.

On the scene, there wasn’t one individual considering destroying the God Executing Immortal Sword. None could even gather that thought. The Firmament’s hidden experts were no different. Better than the denizens of the Three Realms, they understood what that sword was. Throughout the omniverse, only one could possibly muster enough strength to destroy it: the Omniarch.

Him aside, none had the qualifications to give it a shot.

Seizing it, however, that was another story. Many of the feeble deities on the scene only held a shallow understanding of the sword, the rogue cultivators, in particular, knew it as an incomparably formidable weapon, but no more. The knowledge that without a Legendary God cultivation base or above, any attempt to seize the sword would end in surefire death eluded the majority.

Still, they could guess that a weapon requiring the Warden’s blood offerings couldn’t be obtained that easily. Worse, whoever did manage to lay hands on it would become the target of public condemnation, assailed from all sides with no room to escape.

They better have peerless strength.

And without assurance to leave this place alive, what point was there in seizing the sword? But as those thoughts swirled in the minds of the majority, a burly God stood up.

"I will give it a shot."

He declared before descending on the platform and shooting toward the sword. Spurred by the words, thirteen men rose in succession, and driven by their all-consuming thirst for the weapon, rushed toward it! Of those fourteen Gods, the weakest’s cultivation was at the Void God Rank, while the strongest reached the Cosmic God Rank.

The Cosmic God was the first to reach the sword, but he’d not even lifted his hand toward it that he felt his life and soul force dwindle at a startling pace! Alarmed, he turned heels, desperately trying to escape the sword’s range, but to no avail!

While cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and his eyes widened in fright, the burly God turned into dust. Baffled by the sight, those ignorant deities attempted to make a getaway, but unfortunately for them, they’d stepped far too close.

"AAAAAAARGH!"

Howling was the only right they held as the sword drained their life and soul force to the last bit, also turning them into dust.

In the tribunes, the knowledgeable ridiculed their end. The few uninformed, however, saw their eyes widening in disbelief.

"Ignorant wastes. With this level of cultivation, they dare covet the God Executing Immortal Sword? Laughable."

Rajan scoffed. As far as he was concerned, the God Executing Immortal Sword was a family heirloom. Only the Titans were qualified to lay hands on it. Those devas and spirits simply didn’t have the qualifications.

"Fellow deities, please don’t be rash. Only Legendary Gods and above have enough strength to survive the sword’s life-draining power. Even I can only admire it from afar."

The Paragon Spirit Ancestor warned from an unknown location, and his words dampened the spirits of all those willing to give it a shot. Joke, following Heaven’s catastrophes, to say nothing of Legendary Gods, how many Ancestral Gods remained?

For a moment, no deity dared make a move, and seeing this, those hidden Firmament experts inwardly scoffed.

"The Three Realms truly are a den of low-breed monkeys. Was it really necessary for their excellencies to gather us all to handle one of their denizens?"

One of the three Primordial Gods under Blood Nether’s banner sneered as his crimson gaze swept the frightened Deva and Spirit Gods.

"Nonsense, the gathered Gods may be good for nothing fleas, but don’t forget that the target’s strength was enough to put down Sakra."

Another one of the three Primordial Gods replied. However, his partner remained unconvinced.

"Humph! That Sakra is merely an overly favored upstart! How can he compare to Immortal Blood Lords such as us?"

The irate Primordial God denied his partner’s words. As Blood Nether’s cousins, those three enjoyed enormous prestige within the Firmament. But even for them, Firmament Fruits were beyond reach. However, that Sakra, a man of such low upbringing had not only received one, but wasted it at the early-stage of the Overgod Rank!

How hateful!

If any one of them received it, they would now be peak-stage Primordial Gods! But as the irate Primordial raged, the third chimed in.

"Their excellencies’ will is not what we can question. Unless you wish to follow in the footsteps of those that used their background to disturb the Firmament’s order, shut your mouth."

Hearing this, the irate Primordial recalled some disturbing past events and no longer dared open his mouth.

At that time, a man rose from the tribunes and vanished to reappear before the stone altar. If the black hair and eyes weren’t informative enough, the tyrannical air and red bindi mark on his forehead undoubtedly marked him as a Titan!