Once slaughter began, there was no stopping it.
If they could not completely wipe out the other side, then the spiral of war and hatred would only trap both sides in an endless cycle of suffering.
"I understand the logic, but if anyone had a choice, who would want to be born in war, die in war, and have their entire life destined to be nothing more than a brief interlude within a war?"
The resolve—or perhaps despair—of a middle-aged Long-Hand Tribe member left a deep impression on Lu PingAn.
Especially when they happily dragged up those charred corpses and cheerfully worked together to carve them apart. If Lu PingAn had not still been around, these vegetarians might even have tried adding some meat to their meals.
When hatred had endured for years, it had long become impossible to resolve. When old grudges were compounded by competition for living space and fear for one's own survival, killing each other on sight had already become instinct.
"Loyalty that is not absolute is absolute disloyalty."
Lu PingAn made no attempt to play both sides, because he knew that, as a member of humanity, he had vaguely irreconcilable conflicts with those three races.
He vaguely sensed the fundamental difference between his group's development strategy and that of the three races.
We have no intention of occupying this world, turning it into a colony, or completely clearing out the natives. Perhaps that is the root of why we have gained the world's recognition.
Lu PingAn vaguely sensed that the gods in the heavens had always been supporting his group.
He had asked about it. The other three races did not receive such favorable treatment. Eight-Clawed's divine power support came from another dimension, the Gray Dwarves basically had no divine power resources—at least none from