After crossing a broad river, they reached the neighboring territory.
The scenery here was indeed quite nice. Spirit fields blanketed the land, and there were villages as well.
Working in the spirit fields were eighth-grade sprites that had yet to take human form, as well as sprites that had already transformed. But there were even more mortal farmers.
Yes, Wang Wu was not seeing things, nor was he mistaken. Those were humans.
Robust men in their thirties worked bare-chested, built beyond belief, with tufts of hair on their chests and backs, strong as tigers. They could pull the plow themselves, with several pretty young wives trailing behind them, dewy and tender-cheeked.
There were also elderly men in their seventies and eighties, leaning on canes at the village entrance and basking in the sun. Who knew what their clouded old eyes could still see? Were they recalling the past, or missing parents from their homeland whose faces had long faded from memory?
Not far away, seven or eight children covered in hair—half human, half demon, neither quite one nor the other—were making a racket. They were even more boisterous than sprites. Perhaps they were those old men's grandchildren.
These Half-Demons were utterly out of place among true sprites.
One could tell at a glance. It was not their outward appearance, but their bearing—the bearing of the human race, disciplined and carrying a spark of cleverness.
This truly seemed to be the best way for the Demon Race to replenish its lowest-ranking demon populace. With insufficient spiritual energy, it was too difficult for sprites to take human form. Even after transforming, they had to study before they could barely serve as bottom-rung beasts of burden.
Humans were different. By their teens, they already made quite decent little beasts of burden.
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