The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 328 Masked Race

Cain's attention remained fixed upon the Samsara Lord's statue for several minutes, his unmoving gaze attempting to penetrate the secrets of its construction. Repeatedly, he pushed his perception outward, hunting for any trace of latent power, a lingering fragment of will, or a hidden mechanism buried in the stonework. However, regardless of how meticulously he inspected the monument, nothing manifested beyond the familiar aura he had already identified.

A flicker of doubt crossed his features.

It was already clear to Cain that the Samsara Lord’s reach extended into the Crimson World; the Neo-Demon Core pulsating in his chest served as undeniable evidence. Yet, based on the lore he had uncovered, the Samsara Lord appeared to maintain an incredibly hands-off approach.

While he exerted influence through the Samsara Arsenal and the Neo-Demon Core, he never seemed to interfere directly with the cosmic events of the universe.

According to Cain's knowledge, there was no record of the Samsara Lord taking a direct role even during the catastrophic Great War that occurred billions of years in the past.

"He provides aid to those he deems worthy, but the burden of deciding the fate of their worlds rests solely on the shoulders of those warriors—not him."

Cain concluded that this was the definitive pattern of the Samsara Lord's conduct. Surprisingly, he perceived this as a fair arrangement. Struggle was, after all, a core component of advancement. Without such trials, the evolution of one's Dantian, strength, and will would lose all meaning.

Refusing to squander more time trying to fathom a being that resided on a plane of existence far beyond his current measurement, Cain turned his back on the monument. He began to navigate the ancient city once more, meticulously doubling back to ensure no vital clues had been overlooked.

His search yielded nothing.

As he pondered the fundamental nature of Origin Island, a new hypothesis began to crystallize in his mind.

"This landmass originated from another realm... a place where the laws of the Dao are so potent that even experts at the summit of the Third Realm would struggle to leave a scratch on it."

It was a realm where entities like the Samsara Lord were not merely known, but held in divine reverence.

Though several gaps remained in Cain's logic, he felt confident that his intuition was correct. The exact origin of this island stayed shrouded in mystery, yet one specific image haunted his thoughts—the massive structure he had glimpsed within the memories of the Ancestor of the Root.

The tower.

Considering the architectural parallels between the Crimson World and that far-off location, suggesting a link between them was hardly a leap of logic.

Regrettably, these theories did little to assist Cain with the immediate perils of Origin Island. Nevertheless, he filed the realization away. A gut feeling told him this information was vital, likely serving as a turning point for events yet to come.

Ultimately, Cain's only option was to press onward.

After a brief moment of closed eyes, he surged with the Power of Chaos, utilizing its resonance to steer him toward the island's center.

Deep within the inner sanctum of Origin Island lay an expansive garden. The very air shifted the moment one crossed its threshold. It radiated the aura of a peaceful sanctuary where every component existed in flawless harmony. From the rolling terrain to the lush flora, everything was arranged in perfect circles, forming an ecosystem that seemed entirely insulated from violence.

A shrine stood at the heart of this botanical paradise.

Constructed entirely from the timber and foliage native to Origin Island, the building merged perfectly with the surrounding woods. Eight figures stood within the shrine, all possessing identical white hair and striking violet eyes. Their countenances were grim as they looked down at the captive held in the center.

Binding the man's frame were obsidian chains of pure energy, sealing his Cultivation and movements entirely. His vacant, drifting eyes made it obvious that he was locked in a profound coma.

The man's face was one Cain would have known instantly.

It was Bradly.

Before the group could speak, a fresh presence manifested. Without hesitation, the eight figures bowed their heads in respect.

The newcomer shared their signature violet eyes, but his hair was as black as night. His gaze held a terrifying depth of age and ancient authority—the kind only earned by those who had survived for countless eons. Clad in a dark, flowing robe of complex craftsmanship, he exuded a regal and menacing aura. His long black tresses framed a face that was stern, composed, and unwavering.

"Leader," the eight spoke as one.

With a solemn nod, the man walked forward and pressed a single finger against Bradly’s brow.

The Neo-Angel’s body began to convulse immediately.

Torrents of information erupted, flooding into the consciousness of everyone present. With that simple contact, every secret Bradly had struggled to hide was laid bare. As the data settled, the expressions of the violet-eyed warriors turned increasingly dark. The intruders who had breached Origin Island numbered in the dozens, and several possessed enough power to challenge them even if they utilized their full transformations.

Once the extraction was complete, the group turned their attention toward the horizon.

A streak of obsidian energy tore through the heavens, landing near the shrine and taking a human shape. Upon recognizing Ideonus, their moods grew even heavier. Atena had failed to crush her target, though she remained relatively unscathed. Ideonus, however, had been pushed to activate their race's ultimate life-saving technique, proving just how lethal the opposition truly was.

The leader let out a weary sigh as he assessed the situation of their domain.

"Ah... they have returned once more," he murmured. "Those from the lower realms are seeking the King."

The eyes of the violet-eyed warriors turned sharp with killing intent.

"The duty of the Masked Race is to protect this island until the King’s awakening is complete," the leader declared, his voice ringing with iron-clad resolve. "And we shall fulfill that duty to the end." He swept his gaze over the warriors, his presence filling the shrine.

"Let us depart. It matters not who they are; every invader will be driven out. They may choose to leave our home... or they can be ground into dust." Without a moment's delay, the Masked Race warriors gave a final deep bow to their leader before vanishing into the air.

The leader remained, slowly raising his hand.

In the next instant, the very sky above the island began to vibrate with power.