More tragically still, rising talents broke through one realm after another, and even the juniors he had once trampled beneath his feet surpassed him. The Demon Lord who had once lorded over the myriad heavens was now reduced to a solitary shadow, barely clinging to life.
"So he was actually this pitiful." Feng Yanran sighed softly, compassion surfacing in her eyes.
Su Yang frowned, his voice turning colder. "Yanran, remember this: every pitiful person has something hateful about them. The consequences he faces today all stem from the evil he sowed in the past. Just look at that churning sea of blood and the mountain of corpses. Which of those bones was not accumulated through his slaughter of living beings? Ordinary killing can be set aside; one can still cultivate merit to offset the crimes. But what about him? He refined the souls, bones, flesh, and blood of countless living beings into magic treasures, using them to nourish the might of his spirit treasures! The reason the sea of blood seethes with heaven-shaking baleful energy is precisely because it was built from the resentment of countless billions of wronged souls!"
He paused, his gaze turning icy and sinister. "The Heavenly Dao loathes wanton killing above all else, especially the tormenting and abusing of remnant souls. Among those he killed were no shortage of righteous cultivators who had accumulated merit. Killing people and seizing their treasures was not enough for him; he even refused to spare their divine souls, refining them on a massive scale. He had long since incurred boundless karmic sin! If his fortune had not yet run out and there were not still karmic ties awaiting resolution, he would have long since suffered the destruction of both body and spirit, reduced to ashes beneath the tribulation."
Feng Yanran's