Five days later, in the Strongarm Bull Devils' royal city.
At dusk, the setting sun lit up the sky, streaking it with crimson clouds.
In the exact center of the royal city, a sacrificial altar rose from the ground, radiating a solemn and imposing aura.
Around the altar, elite Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers stood guard in layers. Any unauthorized person who approached within ten zhang of the altar was immediately driven away.
Time passed.
An hour later, Emperor Magnus Ironhorn, surrounded by the top experts of the Strongarm Bull Devils, headed straight for the altar. He was accompanied by all the princes and princesses of the clan—except for the deceased Ninth Prince, every royal child was present.
As they neared the altar, everyone else stopped in place, while Emperor Magnus Ironhorn continued up onto the altar alone.
The altar was divided into three tiers, each covered in ancient, desolate runes—mysterious and timeless.
Finally, Emperor Magnus Ironhorn reached the top tier of the altar. The runes here were different; looking at them as a whole, they formed a grimacing ghost-face—sinister and eerie. Embedded between the runes were a hundred head-sized recesses.
With a wave of his hand, Emperor Magnus Ironhorn sent a hundred crystal skulls flying into the recesses, where they fit perfectly into place.