As the northern alliance slowly rose, their pride bruised but not broken, Meng Shi finally spoke, voice low but steady:
"Our alliance… has been suppressed," she admitted, eyes flicking toward her fellow emperors. "Not by mortals of weak strength, nor by chance, but by a Tier 7 force—a force that claims dominion over the Zone We are in. They want us to kneel, to serve as their vassals. Every step we take, every territory we claim, is shadowed, constrained, choked by their might."
Her hands clenched the edges of her silver crown. "We are players. We earned our strength in our own world, through our own effort. We did not come here seeking subjugation. We hoped… that someone of true power—someone like you, Great Emperor Feng Hao—might understand our plight. That you might stand with us, or at least see us freed from the chains that bind us."
A murmur ran through the northern envoys. Some lowered their heads, shame and fear mixing with hope. The message was clear: they were strong, yet constrained; bold, yet shackled. Their alliance had survived this long only by cunning, and now they sought a hand that could truly tip the scales.
Feng Hao's golden eyes scanned the hall, lingering on Meng Shi. Every word she spoke, every ounce of pride and desperation, resonated within him. The Nine God Dynasty did not act lightly—but it did act decisively.
Feng Hao's golden eyes swept across the kneeling northern alliance. His presence—the full breadth of a Mortal Tier 7 Heavenly Dynasty—pressed down like molten sunlight, warm yet unbearable, inexorable. Silence stretched in the hall; even breaths felt loud under his aura.
Finally, his voice broke through, calm, low, and absolute:
"I can help."
The words echoed like a bell across the palace, vibrating through every qi vein, every soldier, every dragon guard in the room. Hope flickered in Meng Shi's eyes, and her alliance straightened, hearts lifting for the first time in a month of suppression.
But then, Feng Hao raised a single hand, golden light spiraling faintly around his fingers, and the weight behind his next words crushed the fragile thrill:
"There is, however… a condition."
He paused, letting the aura settle, letting the northern alliance feel the inevitability of his will.
"You will serve as my subordinates. As vassals of the Nine God Dynasty, bound to my Dao, my command, and my judgment. Only then will I release you from the chains of your oppressors."
The hall trembled. Eyes widened. Whispers ran through the alliance like a wave. Some envoys stiffened in disbelief, pride clashing with reality. Meng Shi's fingers dug into her silver crown. Her pride burned fiercely, but the aura of Feng Hao—so immense, so absolute—pressed on her like a mountain.
"We… we would be your subordinates?" she asked carefully, voice sharp but wary.
"Yes," Feng Hao said simply, the flares of his Primordial Golden Core threading through the hall like golden chains, unseen but inescapable. "As my vassals, your strength will be freed. Your alliance will survive. Your enemies… will fall."
A tense silence followed. The northern alliance, proud and unbroken in spirit, now faced the reality of true power. Submission was not optional; it was the only path to salvation.
Meng Shi's Pheonix like bird shifted nervously above her, wings stretching as if sensing her turmoil. She looked at her fellow emperors, at their expectant, frightened faces. Pride warred with pragmatism. She swallowed, steeling herself, and finally, her voice, though quiet, carried the weight of decision:
"And if we agree… the Northern Alliance will be freed?"
Feng Hao's golden gaze did not waver. "Freed from all who suppress you. Strength returned. Authority restored—but under my command. Your choice determines your fate."
The hall went still. Golden light lingered in the air like a living presence, wrapping the northern alliance in its quiet, absolute inevitability.
The hall was silent, save for the faint hum of Feng Hao's Primordial Golden Core, threading through the air like invisible chains of judgment. The northern alliance's envoys, all players of formidable skill and courage, stared at one another, pride battling the crushing reality of a Tier 7 Mortal force before them.
Meng Shi's golden eyes scanned each of them—jade-bannered emperor, silver-crowned consort, battle-hardened generals—and saw the same mixture of fear and determination reflected back. Their alliance had survived through skill, cunning, and talent. They had earned their victories, fought their battles, and endured the constant oppression of that force Who Tried to enslave them.
And yet…
The Nine God Dynasty's power pressed on them like a mountain, quiet but absolute. Even the bravest, those who had relied on talent and strategy to dominate weaker dynasties, felt their knees weaken under the invisible weight. To resist was futile; to refuse was to invite annihilation.
Meng Shi's fingers clutched the silver crown atop her head. She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to speak, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest:
"Supreme Emperor… we… accept."
A murmur rippled through the room. Shock, disbelief, and relief collided in every face. They would kneel—not out of weakness, not because they lacked skill—but because survival demanded it, because Feng Hao's strength was absolute, and because he offered them a path to reclaim what had been taken.
One by one, the northern alliance lowered themselves fully to one knee, heads bowed before the golden presence of Feng Hao. Pride clashed with necessity, but the decision was unanimous. Their alliance, once oppressed and crushed, would now live under his command, as his vassals.
Feng Hao's gaze softened only slightly, the golden light around him pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
"Rise," he commanded.
The northern alliance obeyed. Their heads lifted, shoulders squared, yet every soul in that room knew their path had irrevocably changed. They were no longer free players—they were now part of the Nine God Dynasty, under Feng Hao's authority.
And yet, hope stirred. Under his command, they would survive. Their enemies—the Northern Holy Emperor Court and its tyrannical grip—would fall.
Feng Hao's eyes lingered on Meng Shi. "Serve well, and your strength will grow beyond anything you have yet imagined. Fail… and no alliance can save you."
Her eyes, bright and defiant even in submission, met his. "We understand, Supreme Emperor. We will not fail."
The Primordial Golden Core's glow intensified for a moment, a faint pulse threading through the hall. The northern alliance, kneeling yet unbroken in spirit, had made their choice.
And in that moment, the balance of power in the northern region began to shift irrevocably.
As the northern alliance's leaders knelt, Meng Shi finally gathered the courage to speak, her voice low but firm:
"Supreme Emperor Feng Hao… there is something you should know," she said, her eyes flicking nervously toward her fellow envoys. "The force that has been suppressing us… it is not the Northern Holy Emperor Court itself. It is one of its subordinate dynasties—a Tier 7 Mortal force in the northern region. They have been enforcing the Holy Court's will, keeping smaller dynasties like ours in check."
A murmur ran through the hall. The truth shifted the weight in the room, giving them a sliver of clarity—and perhaps a faint spark of hope. They had not been crushed by the top power of the northern lands, but by a vassal of it.
Feng Hao's golden eyes narrowed slightly, the glow from his Primordial Golden Core pulsing with a calm, measured intensity. He had already sensed the power of the Northern Holy Emperor Court, a Mortal Tier 12 super force commanding respect across the northern region. Yet the revelation made the situation… simpler. One subordinate could be removed; a chain could be broken.
"Explain everything," Feng Hao commanded, his voice calm but carrying the weight of absolute authority.
Meng Shi's silver crown caught the faint golden light as she bowed her head deeper, fear and determination mingling in her gaze. "The subordinate dynasty is powerful, Supreme Emperor—Tier 7 Mortal. They control vast forces in the northern region, and they have kept us under constant pressure for months. They demand vassalage, tribute, and obedience. Our alliance… we hoped that by appealing to you, a Tier 7 force in your own right, perhaps even greater, you could intervene… help us. That is why we came."