Lone Peak, beside the tallest watchtower.
The Female Demon General sat wearily askew on the rocky steps, her helmet beside her, her hair casually gathered behind her head. A slightly worn straight saber from relentless chopping rested across her legs as she blankly swallowed strips of dried meat one bite at a time.
The Divine Crossbows positioned around the summit continued firing, yet they seemed feeble and listless.
The demon general looked at the dried meat in her hand, then down the mountain. Long lines of people, like refugees fleeing disaster, were converging on Lone Peak.
From yesterday's Meteor Fire Rain until today, the fireballs had dwindled considerably, but that indescribable oppression had not lessened in the slightest.
In a very short time, the creatures of the Shengping Small World had endured the most terrifying apocalyptic calamity.
The number of living beings had plummeted off a cliff.
And it was not over. Death would remain the theme for the next several years.
Based on the knowledge taught in school, restoring the prosperity from before the catastrophe would take at least a century, perhaps even a millennium. Looking down from the mountaintop at the scarred world, all she could feel was despair. This was the Female Demon General's first time witnessing the end of the world with her own eyes.
Her chest felt stifled, as though she could not breathe, and the crushing pressure weighed heavily upon her.
The garrison was somewhat noisy. The demon general frowned impatiently.
Streams of light kept approaching the garrison above Dust Cloud. Several dozen cultivators were already waiting anxiously on the summit, with even more on their way.
Those with no ties came alone.
Those with close family brought their relatives, while others brought disciples with high potential and talent.
Men and women, young and