A dark, oppressive mass stretched out ten miles from Ten Thousand Mile City.
Some cultivators licked their lips, as if they could barely wait to charge out and attack the city. Some Demon Beasts let out low growls, their foreclaws scraping at the yellow sand stained with who knew how much blood.
The Demon Race World had no flags. Other than the Ten Thousand Demons Kingdom, the other sects and demon dynasties all wore completely different clothes. They looked like a chaotic mixture.
But in truth, this was the Demon Cultivator army in its most fundamental form. As cultivators—and even more so as bold and unrestrained members of the demon race—they had no concept of uniforms in their eyes.
As for distinguishing friend from foe, that was even less important.
When Demon Race Cultivators went berserk with bloodlust, there were no enemy troops or allies. They would even kill their own.
At the center of the Demon army, the Twelve Demon Kings sat on their thrones, looking down over the entire battlefield. At the same time, they grasped the battlefield's flow of fortune and might strike at some critical moment.
Some of them yawned, some were still feigning sleep, and others watched the front with smiles, as if waiting for something.
High above Ten Thousand Mile City, the Three Sects Sages sat atop the clouds, all of them pretending to sleep with their eyes closed.
What the Three Sects Sages had to do was contend with the Twelve Demon Kings for the battlefield's fortune. Besides that, they had to set up the Three Sects Formation, grant various BUFFs to the cultivators of the Vast and Righteous World, and inflict DEBUFFs on the various cultivators of the Demon Race World.
On the walls of Ten Thousand Mile City, Chen Qiang of