Over the past decade or so, Ling Tian had helped hundreds of groups, saving nearly a thousand people. The group Mo Yu and the others belonged to had saved many people as well. They had rescued not only their own people, but members of the Alien Race without hesitation. Under their influence, the hostility between the different races gradually faded, and many cultivators had even befriended cultivators from other races.
Although many groups had suffered casualties, that was inevitable—and things had gone far better than expected. Ling Tian and the others grieved for those who had died, but they could only accept it and work even harder to rescue groups in danger.
Groups that had suffered heavy losses were broken up and merged into groups that had lost fewer members. Ling Tian, Mo Yu, and the other leaders deliberately assigned some of these people to groups from other races. After facing danger together, cultivators from the different races developed trust in one another, and relations between them improved considerably.
That day, after finishing their journey and settling down to rest, Ling Tian and the others contacted Mo Yu's group as agreed and pooled information from their respective races. Ling Tian's expression turned grave.
"Brother Yuan, what's wrong?" Su Ying was the first to notice that something was amiss.
"Two cultivators died horribly today." Ling Tian's voice was heavy. He sighed. "Nearly a thousand cultivators have died over the past decade or so. The thousand years ordered by the leaders of the various races are still a long way off. Who knows how many more people will die in that time?"
Nearly ten thousand cultivators had originally entered the Barbaric Land. In just over a decade, their numbers had dwindled to fewer than nine thousand. They were all the Immortal Realm's