Realizing that his junior fellow disciple Bao Fuzi's detached army was in danger, Lu Ya's mood immediately grew heavy.
That was fifteen million elite Immortal Army soldiers of the Demon Race, along with tens of thousands of disciples of the Interception Sect.
If they all fell at the hands of the Human Race and the Interpretation Race, it would be a devastating loss for the Demon Race.
More importantly, if Bao Fuzi died in the chaos of battle,
how would he explain himself to his martial uncle, the Sage Fuxi?
Lu Ya turned around with a gloomy expression and gazed into the distant mass of immortal clouds trailing behind the army.
It was as if, through layer upon layer of empty space and across the clouds, he was looking straight into Yan Tianyu's eyes.
"Is your real target that other detached army?"
Though he had a bad feeling, Lu Ya truly could not determine whether his guess was correct.
He wanted to immediately rescue the other Demon Army, but he was also afraid this was the Human Race's stratagem of luring the tiger away from the mountain.
The rescue party might be ambushed after leaving, or too many rescuers might be dispatched, leaving the main Demon Race forces open to attack.
Neither outcome was acceptable to Lu Ya.
But if he remained indifferent, Bao Fuzi's Demon Army would most likely be completely wiped out.
How should he choose?
Lu Ya secretly cursed himself for being somewhat careless and muttered through clenched teeth,
"I can only find a way to give it a try."
In truth, Lu Ya also had the intention of testing the Human Race's strength.
If the Human Race's main forces had dispatched a large number of Immortals and gods to surround and annihilate the other Demon Army,