Within Ten Thousand Mile City, quite a few sects had already begun packing their belongings, preparing to leave.
Quite a few people had stayed as well, remaining in Ten Thousand Mile City for various reasons.
Every day, people saw others off at the ferry crossing.
Although everyone said, "I'll buy you a drink another day," and "I'll come find you when I return to the Vast and Righteous World,"
most people knew that after this farewell, they might never see each other again.
If they were lucky, perhaps their Nascent Divinities would be reincarnated in their next lives, and they might meet again.
As for those who left, not a single person thought of them as deserters. If they truly had been deserters, they would not have come in the first place—or they would have left long ago.
Everyone simply understood that the odds of Ten Thousand Mile City holding out were far too small. The Demon Race army might very well reach the Nine Continents of the Vast and Righteous World.
They were not alone. Behind them stood their sects and their families.
Only by making preparations for their sects and settling their families could they return to the battlefield without any burdens on their minds.
Thus, although those who left looked relaxed on the surface and said such punchable things as, "I'm going back to retire. You'd better fight hard,"
the responsibilities and pressure weighing on their hearts were actually no less than those of the people remaining in Ten Thousand Mile City.
Most of those who stayed were bachelors. There were also couples who remained together. Many were Wild Mountain Cultivators, and there were plenty of orthodox cultivation sects as well. However, these people generally had others in their sects holding down the fort, so their departure