Lu Yang did not let the rain of blood go to waste. Bloodflame flew from within him, enveloping the rain of blood that filled the sky and Karl Uru's corpse as chunks of source energy gradually formed.
"Father~!" Dozens of Gnoll Orc demigods wailed and cried out at the rain of blood overhead. Their god was dead, which meant their race no longer had any hope.
"Who are you? Why are you treating our race like this?"
"We have no grudge against the Flame Race. Why are you treating us this way?"
Karl Uru's sons cried out miserably at Lu Yang, but their heartbroken voices earned not a shred of his pity. Instead, the weapons in their hands made his eyes light up. Though their shapes varied—hammers, sabers, and longswords—they were all forged from Tier 7 Star Silver, with Tier 7 gemstones embedded in them.
Lu Yang extended his hand. Flames shot from his palm of their own accord, turning into ropes that snatched away Karl Uru's sons' weapons and brought them before him.
"Fine weapons indeed." Lu Yang looked at them appreciatively and said in a low voice, "Only one of you Orcs will survive. Tell me why each of you deserves to live."
"We can't let them live. Kill them all, and we're willing to offer even more Source Soul Crystals." An ugly, grayish-white-skinned demigod who no longer had the strength to fight lay on the ground and snarled at Lu Yang.
"We're willing to offer more Source Soul Crystals. Just kill them and spare us."
The surviving demigods of Golin's faction pleaded with Lu Yang. Clearly, both sides understood now that their lives and deaths depended on a single thought from him.
Lu Yang leisurely walked over to Karl Uru's throne and sat down arrogantly.