This matter alone was enough to make more than ninety percent of the Demon Race regard them as a disgrace.
As for the ten great Demon Saints who had once shaken the eight reaches, they had long since vanished without a trace, nearly extinct within the Primordial Wilderness.
Even those fortunate enough to survive dared not show themselves openly.
For the ancient Demon Court had made far too many enemies in its day.
Ordinary little demons might still scrape by, but the appearance of even one Demon Saint would be tantamount to lighting the fuse—
its symbolic significance far surpassed the life or death of a single individual.
What was more, the path to unifying the Demon Race had been a rain of blood and storms of wind.
As the sharpest blades in the Demon Emperor's hand, the ten great Demon Saints had no idea how much blood of rebels and dissenters stained their hands.
Every stroke of that Karmic Force had long been etched into causality.
Their enemies wished for nothing more than to grind their bones to ash and extinguish their Divine Souls.
In such circumstances, who would dare step forward openly and brazenly?
Thus, the ancient Demon Race of today
was like a heap of loose sand, each holding its own ground, curled up in this bitterly cold land, quietly awaiting fate's final reckoning—
perhaps, silent annihilation.
That day, two streaks of golden light suddenly tore through the sky above the island, shooting straight into the clouds!
Following close behind came an immense pressure, scorching waves churning, heat surging like the tide, enveloping the entire island in an instant.
In that moment, incomparably blazing Solar True Fire erupted with a thunderous roar.
The sea for dozens of miles evaporated completely, white mist soaring into the heavens!
Then