It was as though heaven and earth had frozen solid, deathly silent.
Jiang Ding strolled onto the battlefield, taking command of this stretch of heaven and earth.
The surroundings were utterly quiet. They let him walk past, and when he reached Desolate Fire Sword Son, he asked mildly, "Defeated?"
"Yes, defeated."
"My skills were inferior."
Desolate Fire Sword Son did not seek excuses. He said dejectedly.
A sword cultivator's life had always contained only victory and defeat, life and death. As for reasons, they were not important.
"From your perspective, the Human Dao Children's ability to organize and cooperate truly falls short of the Divine Path Divine Sons'."
"What do you think is the reason for that?"
Jiang Ding smiled faintly. "Is it a racial defect?"
Clearly, this Human Sword Son had arrived long ago and merely watched in silence. His arrival now was not some coincidence at the eleventh hour.
He had grown curious—curious over who would prevail in the contest of will and organization. The result was obvious... the Human Dao Children had indeed been rather disappointing. They had clearly held a tremendous advantage, and their earlier tactics had been sound. Bit by bit, they had built up overwhelming momentum and driven the Divine Sons into a desperate strait, a strategic model worthy of emulation.
Yet in the end, it had become an ugly rout.
"A racial defect of the human race?"
"Racial defect, my ass!"
Desolate Fire Sword Son's face flushed red as he roared, "In battlefield formations and military slaughter, there are only a few things to rely upon—clear rewards and punishments."
"Victory brings rewards. Defeat, or fleeing before the battle in violation of military law, brings punishment. Not only must those who retreat be punished, but their sects, lineages, and families must be severely punished