And once their fortune was abundant, flowing in an endless stream, forget returning to their former peak—even climbing to an even higher level would be far from empty talk!
So long as they regained the strength with which they had once looked down upon the eight directions, then tempered the elites under their command into an army, forging them into an iron tide, when that time came, what was a mere Kunpeng? The entire Great Desolation Continent—the Demon Race would surely reclaim its lost lands!
The Heavenly Court, too, would ultimately return to the hands of their race.
It was only that the time had not yet come, and they still needed to endure in silence."
Dijun sat upright upon his throne, both hands gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles faintly whitened.
He spoke each word with deliberate force, every syllable chiseled out and wrapped in unshakable resolve.
Clearly, he was unwilling to accept their current state of concealment and dormancy.
Yet he understood better than anyone that they were now surrounded by enemies, with undercurrents surging everywhere. This was absolutely not the time to act on a momentary impulse.
It was precisely because of this that he suppressed all the anxiety and unwillingness in his heart, burying himself solely in building up his foundations and strengthening his wings.
Having once commanded hundreds of millions of demons and ruled the Heavenly Vault as the supreme Demon Emperor, how could he possibly feel no sense of disparity?
But the higher one stood and the greater one's power, the more clear-headed one had to be in assessing the situation.
If he indulged in the glory of old and carelessly exposed his traces, he might not even know how he died.
When the Demon Race had flourished in ancient times, he