Chapter 594: Negotiation

As the high-level shamans from both sides entered the palace, those outside could no longer perceive what transpired within.

At that moment, Gao Jie Ming's magic network terminal vibrated.

He looked down and saw intelligence reports pouring in continuously from the AIs, each one meticulously organized.

From the political structures and power systems of the parallel world to its civilizational history and current crises, everything was categorized and as clear as an academic paper—he swiftly scanned the text, gaining a general understanding of the parallel shamanic civilization.

As Gao Jie Ming had estimated during his earlier conversation with Elder Avery Knight, the parallel world's shamanic civilization had no Level Nine shamans; after the "First One" achieved Level Nine, a treaty on knowledge protection had already been established.

In other words, later shamans in his own world enjoyed far superior conditions than those in the parallel shamanic civilization.

If even under more favorable conditions no one could reach Level Nine, the likelihood of achieving it under harsher circumstances was exceedingly low. Moreover, the difficulty of reaching Level Nine was extreme; even apart from the nine Level Nine shamans, it was questionable whether anyone else in the shamanic civilization possessed the potential to attain it.

Thus, Gao Jie Ming had long anticipated the absence of Level Nine shamans in the parallel world.

But only upon seeing the detailed data analysis did he fully grasp what this meant.

A civilization without a Level Nine shaman standing guard was like a giant beast without fangs in the endless chaos void.

Though still powerful, it lacked overwhelming force.

Yet the shamanic civilization's innate drive to expand had not changed; once expansion reached a certain scale, it encountered unprecedented backlash. Surrounding civilizations united, squeezing the civilization's space from all directions.

War had never ceased.

Each generation of shamans in the parallel world was born on the battlefield, grew on the battlefield, and died on the battlefield.

Knowledge was passed down through fire—and lost through fire.

Advanced theories requiring prolonged, tranquil study were simplified into the most direct killing techniques.

Experiments requiring generations of effort were interrupted by war.

Sacred texts recording the wisdom of ancient sages were reduced to ash amid rivalries and battles among shamans.

Survival had become the sole goal of this shamanic civilization.

Gao Jie Ming looked up at the palace floating in the void.

Its silver-white walls reflected a cold gleam under starlight, their perfect geometric forms sharply contrasting with the twisted warships across from them.

Within the palace, aura after aura erupted as both sides instinctively displayed power, probed each other's limits, and fought for control over every clause; even through the palace walls, these auras caused the surrounding void to tremble faintly.

The negotiations were clearly not going smoothly, but from the fluctuation frequency of these auras, neither side intended to walk away.

Gao Jie Ming and the surrounding shamans waited patiently.

After an unknown length of time, the palace doors finally opened.

Four hundred Level Eight shamans stepped out first, their strides calm, their faces showing varying degrees of satisfaction.

Then came the over a hundred Level Eight shamans from the parallel world, their expressions far more complex.

Some looked relieved, some resentful, and others held in their eyes something Gao Jie Ming could not decipher.

Felix and the other three AIs appeared in the void, their voices echoing across the entire battlefield.

"An agreement has been reached. The four major factions pledge not to launch extinction wars and will adopt a civilizational integration plan, fully absorbing the parallel shamanic civilization." A low murmur rose through the void.

The shamans of the four factions nodded slightly; this outcome was within their expectations.

On the opposing warships, the gaunt shamans plunged into deeper unrest.

Felix continued: "Before civilizational integration, both sides must locate their respective counterparts and engage in one-on-one combat. The loser shall voluntarily sign a soul contract to serve as the winner's research assistant."

No sooner had he finished than the four factions erupted in long-suppressed cheers.

The high-level shamans rubbed their hands together; some stretched their limbs, others checked their gear, and some had already begun scanning the twisted warships across with their spiritual sense, searching for possible counterparts.

Hadn't they come to this gathering precisely for this moment?

A counterpart, sharing the same origin, a research assistant to mutually validate and advance each other's understanding.

On the opposing warships, however, the scene was entirely different.

The gaunt shamans exchanged glances, their madness replaced by fury and terror.

The term "research assistant" did not exist in their conceptual framework; they knew only slaves—and test subjects.

Some raged, some despaired, and others trembled violently, wanting to charge across—but were held back by their companions.

Yet most, after a brief chaos, fell silent.

They stared at their counterparts across: dressed in fine robes, their auras steady; at the four war machines radiating terrifying power; at the Level Eight shamans in the sky, forever beyond their reach…

Ultimately, they silently accepted this outcome.

It was not what they wanted—but it was all they could get.

Gao Jie Ming stood at the edge of the flagship, his gaze sweeping over the figures on the warships.

Most had accepted reality, appearing utterly dejected; yet a few still had flickering eyes, lost in thought. Gao Jie Ming committed these faces to memory.

In the coming days, the entire void became a vast construction site.

Shamans from the Void Architecture Institute led the construction of the "Duelling Arena."

It was a massive structure floating in the endless chaos void, entirely composed of silver-white metal, its surface covered in folded geometric runes.

Its internal space had been folded countless times; from outside, it appeared as a structure only dozens of kilometers in diameter, yet its true interior could accommodate thousands of duels simultaneously.

Shamans from the Star Ring Federation handled energy supply, connecting part of the quantum-entangled flagship's power to the arena's core.

Shamans from the Crimson Wang Ting cultivated a living barrier around the arena, capable of absorbing any overflow of attack residual energy. Shamans from the Entropy Reversal Alliance established the rules, implanting a completely fair "law" within the arena.

Any participant entering would be suppressed to the same level, the same physical strength, and the same spiritual power.

"We will ensure relative fairness," declared an Entropy Reversal Alliance Level Eight shaman.

The shamans of the four factions raised no objections.

For them, true advantage lay in knowledge, in understanding the essence of power—these would not vanish even if their level was suppressed. For the parallel world shamans, however, hearing this rule made their expressions even more complex.

Gao Jie Ming stood at the edge of the flagship, watching the arena take shape, silently planning his own strategy.

He had largely concluded he likely had no counterpart—but this grand event itself was a rare, irreplaceable opportunity.

The battles of high-level shamans were rarely perceptible to lower-rank shamans; each move they made was a manifestation of knowledge.

As long as he watched carefully and learned earnestly, his gains would not be less than any research.

Soon, as the final component of the arena was installed, silver-white light blazed across its surface, illuminating the entire void. Felix's voice rang out again, calm and solemn: "The Duelling Arena is ready. Searching for counterparts will begin tomorrow." Cheers surged like a tide across the four factions' ranks.

On the opposing warships, the gaunt shamans looked up at the magnificent structure, their madness slowly fading, replaced by something long absent: exhaustion.

Some sighed, and suddenly felt themselves relax.

Though the term "research assistant" sounded dubious, at least… it was better than dying on the battlefield.