The Strike

There were still half a day before the gods were killed.

Night gave way to dawn.

A crimson sun slowly rose, illuminating the myriad rosy clouds.

Flocks of birds skimmed across the sky, crying out mournfully.

They seemed to sense that war was coming and fled in all directions, helpless and panicked.

Then heavy, desolate horns sounded one after another.

Toot—toot—

The horns rang for a thousand miles, summoning all the surviving Human Race Cultivators to gather at the front lines once more.

Gu Qingshan stood amid the ruins of the Floating Island, quietly listening to the horns.

He had once read the records of this battle and knew exactly what had happened at every moment.

At daybreak, the gods would leave the divine palace and head to the front lines to join the battle.

The horns sounded, which meant the gods were gathering the defeated Human Race army to prepare for the decisive battle.

Half a quarter of an hour later, the Ancient Monsters would charge into the Human Race armies' assembly points.

The decisive battle would begin.

This was the only battle in history in which all the gods had taken part.

After this decisive battle, the Ancient Monsters were temporarily driven back, allowing the gods and the Human Race to survive.

It was a war in which both gods and humans had given everything, so history had recorded it in full.

Gu Qingshan quietly considered how to respond.

Suddenly, a flock of birds swooped down from the sky.

They landed in a collapsed courtyard among the ruins and began to rest.

Perhaps they had endured too much panic and too long a flight. Beside the courtyard pond, they dipped their beaks into the water again and again.

After drinking, they did not leave. They seemed satisfied with