"Lillian."

After being rejected, the god's face was somewhat unnatural. "The elders in the tribe all agree on this matter. If you and I join forces, then the Ghost Martial Tribe..."

"Enough!" Lillian Tompson stood up, turning her back to him. "There are some things I don't want to say twice. Our ancestors have not been resurrected yet; let's wait until they are before we speak further."

As she spoke, Lillian Tompson's brows showed some disgust.

"Also, don't pressure me with the elders; I'm not buying it."

Her tough attitude made the god feel somewhat embarrassed. "Lillian, we are no longer young. The Ghost Martial Tribe has taken the resurrection of our ancestors as its duty for generations, but after thousands of years, we still haven't found all of the ancestors' remains! Are you telling me that if we can't resurrect them in this lifetime, you're not going to marry me in this lifetime?"

The more the god spoke, the more agitated he became. He stood up abruptly, grabbed Lillian Tompson's arm, and shouted, "Lillian, why! What part of me is not good enough! Tell me!"

"Let go of me!" Lillian Tompson forcefully pushed away the god's arm, suppressing her inner anger as she spoke coldly. "I have someone I like, but that person is not you."

"Who! Who is that person!" The god's eyes turned blood-red, entirely losing the calm demeanor he had before.

No one could have imagined that the dignified High Priest of the Ghost Martial Tribe was just a young man!

"Who he is doesn't matter." Lillian Tompson turned around, her eyes cold. "He's a man you'll never be able to measure up to, Davion. I hope you can distinguish between public and private interests. The most important thing now is resurrecting our ancestors."

"Who is he!" Davion almost roared in a shout!

In his extreme agitation, he accidentally bumped the table into Lillian Tompson's stomach.

"Davion! Don't make me hate you!" Lillian Tompson frowned, gently rubbing her belly.

The hit just now was quite powerful.

Making her uncomfortable.

"You... you have his child?" Davion suddenly slumped into the chair, his eyes already filled with bloodshot veins. "No... No problem, I'll raise the child once it's born. As long as you can..."

"You're not worthy of raising her child!" Lillian Tompson strode to the door, pushed it open, turned back to look at Davion. "If you can't fulfill the task of finding the ancestor's remnants, I'll report to the elders and have you transferred back!"

Bam!

With that, she firmly closed the door.

Leaving only an expressionless High Priest of the Ghost Martial Tribe in the room.

"Damn it! I, Davion, showed talent at ten, became a Priest of the Ghost Martial Tribe at eighteen! Up to now, how many people in the world can surpass me! Lillian Tompson, you don't appreciate it..."

Love can make one distorted.

But just at this moment.

The door was pushed open.

Lillian Tompson stood at the doorway, took a deep breath, and managed to force a faint smile. "My previous words were a joke. At this crucial moment, my mind is only on resurrecting our ancestors, I'm sorry."

The grand task not yet completed, she didn't want to make the relationship too strained.

Seeing that the ancestral arm was within the Neolle Leocadia, if due to a quarrel between the two, a great mistake was made, Lillian Tompson would regret it for a lifetime.

"Really?" Davion's originally dim eyes suddenly sparkled.

Hope appeared once more.

"Yes." Lillian Tompson nodded.

She had always regarded Davion as a friend.

A friend without romantic feelings.

Besides, she already had Julius Reed in her heart.

Looking at any other man, she found them displeasing.

"You're saying, the child in your belly, I can raise it?" Davion stood up excitedly, seeming to realize he was a bit out of line. He hurriedly adjusted his clothes and asked with a smile, "If you like, the child's surname can be his."

"You..." Perhaps because the weather was somewhat warm, Lillian Tompson felt a little stuffy in her chest. "Fine, whatever you want!"

Whatever, she was tired.

"Whatever I want?" Davion's original anger and unwillingness disappeared entirely. "Thank you, allowing the child to have my surname."

Gazing at Lillian Tompson's retreating figure, Davion felt extremely joyful inside.

He put on his robe, pulled up his hood, and quietly left the room.

To check the situation outside.

The sun was gradually setting.

Within Neolle Leocadia, it was particularly busy.

Any Martial Artist of any ability was urgently enlisted to participate in a colossal project.

For many years, Neolle Leocadia had not experienced such a high-level emergency mobilization.

It appeared as though they were facing a great enemy.

As the sky gradually darkened, the Martial Artists within Neolle Leocadia seemed to have completed their tasks and returned one by one to rest.

Neolle Leocadia felt somewhat spacious.

Only the inner palace remained lit.

This was the location of the Formation's core, requiring long-term vigilance.

"Although there were some accidents, the Ten Yama Kings Formation is still the most powerful in my heart! This time, with the formation set at our feet, no matter his skill in the West Tower, he can only be doomed!"

Gerrit Harris stood in the center of the grand hall, lifting his head to look at the chandelier above.

Inside the lamp, there was an arm.

It was precisely this arm that was providing a continuous source of Spiritual Power, maintaining the Ten Yama Kings Formation.

Unlike the last time, after the clash with Julius Reed, Gerrit Harris became more cautious.

Outside the formation, sixteen copper pillars were inserted into the ground.

Trying to absorb more Spiritual Power.

The Ten Yama Kings Formation, crafted by nearly a thousand Martial Artists spending an entire day, filled Gerrit Harris with confidence.

Compared to those quickly assembled formations, the power of this time-consuming formation was immensely greater!

"Make sure to guard this place well. As long as the formation's core is intact, there's no way the Ten Yama Kings can be broken!"

Gerrit Harris was exceptionally cautious.

The battle outside had a significant impact on him.

"Master, rest assured, we're stationed here. Absolutely no outsider will be allowed entry."

Hercules Marsh was no longer as arrogant as before, replaced by some worry.

However, with Gerrit Harris personally overseeing, they felt somewhat reassured.

But suddenly.

Gerrit Harris extended his hand, signaling for silence.

"Illusion?" He squinted his eyes, picked up the cup of tea from the table, and casually splashed it!

The tea water seemed to encounter an obstruction and was torn apart in the air.

Gerrit Harris seized the moment, drew a dagger from his sleeve, and swiftly slashed down!

Simultaneously flicking his sleeve!

Thirteen throwing knives fell before the door!

Forming a barrier!

Blocking the illusion!

"Shhh!" He lowered his voice, making a gesture for silence. "Someone outside is creating an illusion. We stay put and observe."

Those responsible for formations had a strong sense of this kind of power.

Ordinary people couldn't detect the illusion, but Gerrit Harris was keenly aware of it.

The other four in the room, hearing these whispered words, all returned to their original seats.

Illusion?

Could it be the Ghost Martial Tribe?

Creak.

The door was slowly pushed open.

Lillian Tompson, dressed in black, entered the room.

She looked left and right, noticing a face she didn't recognize.

However, seeing everyone in a daze, it seemed they had already fallen into the illusion, so she didn't pay it any mind.

After briefly observing the situation, Lillian Tompson took a Compass from her pocket.

The needle on the Compass spun continuously before finally pointing to the ceiling.

"Above?"

Lillian Tompson looked up, finding only a lamp hanging above.

Leaping up, she grabbed the chandelier with one hand and was amazed to discover a pitch-black arm inside the lamp!

"Saintess, what are you doing here?"

Just as Lillian Tompson was about to take the arm and quietly leave, Hercules Marsh suddenly spoke up.

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