Now, they had already given it their all, and had gathered almost every member of the Demon Race across Northern Kuru Continent willing to submit, yet their total numbered less than a million.
The gap between them was suffocating.
Yet neither Bai Ze nor Ghost Chariot had the power to reverse this situation, and even the two Demon Emperors could not completely change it in a short time.
The Demon Race's decline had hardly happened overnight.
To rapidly expand their forces, their foremost task was to return the Demon Race to the ranks of the Primordial Wilderness's top powers.
Only by occupying a high position could they gain a voice and draw allegiance from all directions.
It was nothing like after the ancient war came to an end, when the Demon Race's foundations had been cut down to the very bottom, with fewer than one in ten elite experts remaining, and during the reshuffling of the upper ranks, they had been swept straight out of the core circle.
What they sought now was merely for the Demon Race to squeeze back into that circle.
Easy to say, but unimaginably difficult to accomplish.
As one of the ten great Demon Sages of ancient times, Ghost Chariot naturally remembered the magnificent sight of the Heavenly Court ruling over the Primordial Wilderness.
Precisely because he remembered, he felt all the more desolate.
Since when had the Demon Race needed to expend such painstaking effort and tread so carefully just to stand among the top ranks?
But that was reality—cruel and real.
All they could do was grit their teeth and lead the Demon Race forward inch by inch.
And this army of several hundred thousand demon soldiers was the only fresh force they had in hand, as well as one of the few