A Youth in Green Robes arrived at this battlefield, crossed through it, and entered the Seven Hues Realm Sea.
He was like a traveler who had journeyed for tens of thousands of years, covered in dust and weariness, returning once more to his homeland. He accurately found his own house. Beside it, a swarm of ants and butterflies gathered, their seven colors fluttering brilliantly, bringing much liveliness to the area around the house.
And then, nothing.
The heaven and earth around them, the entire battlefield of brutal slaughter, seemed to freeze solid. Sound vanished, and the fighting came to a standstill.
Everyone shuddered in alarm.
'Hiss—'
Ming Guangzi sucked in a cold breath. A chill ran through his body, and fear rose in his heart.
He resembled them more and more. More and more.
He was like the Successive Generations of Great Sun Sword Masters, especially Xi Yuan.
The life and death of all beings—especially sword cultivators—were simply like a game before him.
This was destiny. This was glory. This was opportunity.
How could the merciful Great Sun Sword Master seize his subordinates' opportunities?
Perhaps he merely found them noisy.
There was no Dao Son here, and therefore no enemy of his.
Perhaps only citizens of the Eastern Extreme Demonic Sect could awaken his humanity. Other than that, even if all the Great Sun Sword Cultivators died in battle, not the slightest ripple would arise in his heart.
The destiny of Great Sun Sword Cultivators was the battlefield, was death. There was nothing strange about it.
Without enemies, the lives of Great Sun Sword Cultivators would not be complete. There would be no hope, and their entire lives would be gray and dim, without even a thread of light.
That was even more unbearable than death.
Putting himself in their