Yang Jing stood upon the vast wilderness. A biting wind swept past, whipping up cracked, sandy earth and setting his robes snapping.
He knew all too well the consequences of defeat in this campaign against the demons within the secret realm.
The simple phrase "countless casualties" on people's lips had never meant cold, abstract numbers. It meant living, warm lives, whole families, and the final curtain falling on countless ordinary lives.
If they lost this battle and the Demon Cult remnants in the Stone Mountain Secret Realm grew powerful enough to continue their rampage, all of Jintai Prefecture would sink into years of warfare and slaughter. The flames of war would spread in every direction, calamity would sweep across mountains and seas, and no one would escape unscathed.
Then the dear friends and fellow disciples with whom he shared deep bonds-Ma Qiang, Fang He, Lin Ziheng, Yan Chenglong, Liu Maolin, and all those familiar faces who had cultivated beside him and weathered hardship together-might perish in the demonic catastrophe, their blood staining the barren earth.
Even senior sister Ningxiang might not escape the turmoil of those troubled times.
His loved ones back home in Yuhe County weighed just as heavily on his heart.
His grandparents, his mother, his aunt, his older cousin-these people he cherished most had no formidable martial cultivation to protect them. Once the demonic chaos spread and war blazed across the land, they would be among the weakest and most helpless, liable to meet disaster at any moment amid the endless fighting.
At that thought, the chill and resolve in Yang Jing's heart grew stronger still.
The Demon Cult forces entrenched in the Stone Mountain Secret Realm were a root of calamity buried deep in Jintai Prefecture's soil.
Until that root was removed, the turmoil would never