"Are there still Deity Transformation Cultivators among the Northern Plains human race?"
"And they are simply allowing the situation to develop like this?"
Jiang Ding frowned.
That was uncertain.
In the eyes of many high-level cultivators, mortals were a species that could grow back in great swathes within a hundred years. If they died, they died.
If the Demon Race could be dealt with in the future, then in a few hundred years at most, given free rein to multiply and thrive, the place would once again become a prosperous land of humans.
Or, to think in a darker direction, perhaps this was intentional.
Rebellions across the Northern Plains rose one after another. Every cultivator had rebellion in their bones, slaughtering the noble bloodlines of the royal court at the slightest provocation, without the slightest reverence. They did not consider themselves in any way inferior to the royal court's noble bloodlines. My fate is mine to command, not Heaven's.
These cultivators, along with the vast masses of mortals influenced by them, could die and be done with it.
In the eyes of many Lineage cultivators, they deserved to die.
Then, they could spend several hundred more years breeding another batch of mortals and cultivators, carefully teaching them from childhood how to respect the royal court's noble bloodlines, screening them layer by layer, sealing off all contamination from the outside world. In the end, perhaps even greater surprises would emerge.
The ancient noble bloodlines might be reborn under such circumstances and rule everything once more.
"The Western Desert Ten Thousand Demon Valley now occupies more than half of the Northern Plains, establishing a paradise for the Demon Race and raising humans as slaves and food."
That was written in the Central Court meeting records.
"The remaining smaller half of the grasslands