The Witch Race.
They had lost a Great Witch, and Gonggong had been gravely wounded. It was their first loss of such severity, leaving the entire Witch Race deeply depressed.
"We should have wiped out the Demon Race. We let them off too easily this time," Zhurong said angrily.
Of course, his anger stemmed from the fact that Gonggong's injuries were far from simple. He had already fallen unconscious and could only be nurtured within the blood pool. Whether he could recover was still uncertain.
The ten-thousand-year deadline was now impossible, which left the Witch Race miserable. Not to mention the Great Witch they had lost.
"Everyone, this is not as simple as you think. The appearance of Saint Zhunti and Saint Zhen Yuanzi proves that this is no simple situation—it is a situation orchestrated by Saints. Otherwise, how could the Demon Race's ten little Golden Crows have appeared so suddenly?" Black Tortoise said.
"Hmph, who cares whether it is simple or not? We can wipe out the Demon Race first. What is the point of considering so much?" Zhurong said.
"You?" Black Tortoise grew somewhat angry. Was this resentment over his warning to Zhu Jiuyin? Thus, he snapped:
"According to Fellow Daoist Zhurong, should we throw all caution aside and fight the Demon Race until both sides are ruined? Only to discover at the very end that not only Fellow Daoist Gonggong was injured, but many more fellow Daoists and Great Witches had died and vanished from existence? Then we suddenly realize that our arrangements over endless ages were nothing more than a mindless war. With some dead and others wounded, we would hate the Heavenly Dao for its injustice, only to be swept into Hong Huang's river of time and become dust. Apart from the Witch Race preserved