Wings Of Deception
Chapter 55 The Summit— The Subject

Chapter 55: Chapter 55 The Summit— The Subject

Damien Mufasa glanced at his elder brother.

Sensing the unspoken cue in his gaze, Frassure Mufasa, the King of the Three Fangs Kingdom, rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

"Greetings, everyone," he began.

All eyes turned to him, the tension in the hall immediately easing. His presence alone commanded respect, his power undeniable—even among the strongest gathered here.

Still, there were those eager to stir the waters, their eyes lingering on John with thinly veiled contempt.

John, unfazed, merely smiled. He picked up a goblet and took a small sip of the fruit juice before him.

Damien stepped forward.

"I hereby declare the First Beast Alliance Summit officially open," he announced. "Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve all led different lives within this secluded Sanctuary. But one thing binds us together: the sanctuary has protected us. It kept us hidden from the greedy eyes of cultivators who would seek to destroy or enslave us. In this sacred place, we have grown—both in strength and in our understanding of this world’s unique rules and laws."

He paused, scanning the faces before him, letting the gravity of his words settle.

"But we are no longer the same beings we once were. We are no longer human—if we ever truly were. We have been reborn, reincarnated as beasts. Whether we accept it or not, that is now our truth."

A ripple of emotion stirred the hall.

"I’ll come to the point," Damien continued. "The peace we’ve long maintained... may not last much longer."

"What do you mean by that?" Denial Aurora asked with a cynical tilt of his head.

"Yes, what are you implying?" Dame Roan shouted, voice slurred and aggressive. "Are you saying you’re preparing for war? Is that why we were called here? Hah! Bold move!"

His breath reeked of strong liquor, and his eyes were unfocused. He was clearly drunk—and reckless.

Suddenly, a furious roar tore through the room.

"Silence, Roan!" Fanny Mufasa, the third of the Mufasa brothers, shot to his feet. "Damien already made you cough blood once, and he’s the softest among us. Me? I’m the opposite. Accuse us again, and I’ll tear your head off and mount it on the capital gates!"

Fanny’s aura surged. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the very air seemed to crack under pressure. The hall shook, and the assembled guests felt the crushing weight of his killing intent.

Dame Roan paled. He trembled, lowering his head in submission. The threat wasn’t just for show—Fanny meant every word.

Before things could escalate further, Sammo Roan, another member of the Iron Bull Clan and seated beside the drunkard, stood up and bowed deeply.

"Please, forgive him," Sammo said. "Dame Roan is a fool—and he’s drunk. He let his mouth run wild. I offer our clan’s sincere apology for his disrespect."

Then, without hesitation, he slapped Roan hard across the face. The crack of the blow echoed through the chamber.

Roan didn’t protest. Not even a glare. Just quiet acceptance. He knew he’d crossed a line, and that slap—public and humiliating—had likely saved his life.

Fanny, seeing this, calmed. He gave Sammo a curt nod and slowly sat back down.

The hall exhaled. The tension eased—if only slightly.

Frassure Mufasa raised his hand again, reclaiming the room’s attention.

"Now that’s settled," he said calmly, "let’s get to the heart of why we’re all gathered here. I’ll be direct—I’m initiating a war campaign."

A collective gasp rippled across the chamber.

Some frowned in disbelief. Others remained stone-faced and expressionless. A few looked ready to object, but the memory of Fanny’s earlier fury held their tongues.

Frassure chuckled, acknowledging the mood. "Relax," he said. "I’m not here to threaten your territories or declare war against any of you. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve gathered you all here to propose an alliance. A real one."

He paused, letting his words hang.

"I’m sure the question on everyone’s mind is: Who do we plan to fight?"

He spread his arms. "The answer is simple—human cultivators."

A wave of unease swept through the hall.

"A week ago," Frassure continued, his tone darkening, "twelve separate human groups crossed into the sanctuary. Twelve. This isn’t a seasonal raid. They’re not here for a harvest. They’re here to settle."

Whispers stirred among the guests.

"My guess?" Frassure said. "The outside world is in chaos. They’ve fled here—this sanctuary, our home—to escape whatever catastrophe they’ve caused out there. And they brought their strongest with them. These aren’t mere disciples or scouts. Many of them are powerful cultivators—dangerous, strategic, and ruthless."

He scanned the room. Some of the guests looked shocked, others not so much. He noted those expressions. Some of them already knew.

"But they’re not attacking us," Denial Aurora said with a shrug, trying to sound indifferent.

Frassure nodded slowly. "Not yet."

He stepped forward, his voice deepening with authority.

"They’re building roots. Establishing clans. Constructing sects. Mark my words—once they’re comfortable, they’ll begin spreading. And once they start hunting, it’ll be too late to resist."

He paused, meeting eyes one by one.

"We either unite now," Frassure Mufasa concluded, "or fall one by one later."

He let his words hang in the air like a heavy fog, then slowly swept his gaze across the hall, measuring the reactions of each guest. Their expressions, their body language—he saw uncertainty, concern, and most importantly... consideration. That was enough.

He gave a small nod, satisfied.

"This is your choice," he added. "No one is forced to remain. If you don’t believe in this alliance, or in the threat we face, then you’re free to leave. But know this—from today onward, this place will be the official headquarters of the Beast Alliance."

No one stood up. No one moved.

Of course not. Only a fool would walk away when a storm was already howling at the gates. Even the most arrogant among them were silent, their minds clearly hard at work.

Then, a voice broke the hush.

"Alright," said John, in a lazy, almost amused tone. He leaned back slightly in his chair, lifting his cup. "That’s enlightening enough."

All eyes turned to him.

"The danger is real, and the stakes are larger than any single territory," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "As the founder and head of the Sky Dominating Clan, I place my full faith in this alliance. Whatever King Frassure Mufasa declares... consider my clan ready. In every capacity, we will support the cause."

He raised his cup and offered a nod to Frassure.

"To unity, before it’s too late."