The lands of Jin, Tui, and Yun Prefectures had long since been filled with densely packed crowds.
This was the last Pure Land in the Human World.
Millions upon millions of living beings, refugees from the borders and arrivals from the Five Clans and the Evil Realm, crowded into these three tiny prefectures.
The old, the weak, women, and children huddled beneath makeshift shelters, their faces sallow, their eyes filled with lingering terror.
Every breath brought a searing ache, and their cracked lips quivered.
No one could leave.
Outside lay burning white flames and buildings reduced to charred husks.
The four prefectures of Lu, Chi, Chen, and Yu had become purgatory. Pale flames licked the scorched earth, waves of scorching air rippled over the cracked ground, and all things turned to ash in silence.
The remaining prefectures of Great Xia, once filled with cities, mountains, rivers, and streams, had all become phantoms. Only twisted ashes drifted through the sea of fire, and even the wails of the dying were swallowed by the heat.
The air reeked of burning, deathly stillness—the wasteland of the Human World, where even souls could be reduced to ash.
Despair, panic, and hardship swept through every heart.
Beyond the firmament, countless enormous eyeball-like planets had drawn rapidly closer to the Human Race over the past few days.
Now they covered the entire sky.
The eyeballs crowded against one another, making strange squeaking noises.
Indifference and scrutiny.
That gaze crossed the barriers between dimensions and pierced the mists of time, watching these tiny living beings with cold disinterest.
There was no anger in their eyes, no bloodlust—only a chill, absolute indifference, as if they were looking at ants.
"Everyone, don't be afraid."
In the civilian district, a little girl dressed in a golden robe made her way