Those who had lost their homes were struggling bitterly on the road. I had ventured into their midst, my heart filled with despair.
Once, I had been a powerhouse who swept through the Savage Beast Race and even slew two Savage Beast Kings. But now, I had become a down-and-out refugee. Curses constantly rang out among the refugees around me.
"It's all that damned Liang Fan's fault. If not for him, we wouldn't be in such a miserable state."
"You can't blame him. He was trying to protect us. Besides, he's already dead."
"Exactly. He slew two generations of Savage Beast Kings. He was our pride."
"Pride? If he was our pride, then why did he die? Why did he leave us in this state?"
The people around me continued to curse. I silently lowered my head, my expression utterly numb. As things stood, I was living a life worse than death. If so, what meaning could these words possibly have for me?
This refugee group was fleeing toward the Sacred Palace. In this far northern land, the Sacred Palace was the only path to survival. After the Myriad Races descended, the Outer Human Race naturally descended as well.
However, they naturally would not persecute their fellow humans. Instead, they formed one Great Sect after another and did everything they could to save humanity.
Thus, at a time like this, the only way to survive was to go to the Sacred Palace.
It was said that the Sacred Palace had been created by one of humanity's major forces, an extraordinarily powerful faction with immense strength. Even the Savage Beast Race did not dare provoke it recklessly. Only by going there could everyone survive.
The journey was fraught with hardships and dangers. I walked among the group, my expression utterly indifferent.