As one of the super veterans who had been hanging around the battlefield since the start of the War of Ten Thousand Races, Luo Dapang had spent far longer on it than He Chendong.
But Luo Dapang had only fought on the battlefield a handful of times at the beginning. After that, he had never gone back to fight the Devils.
He hadn't come to the battlefield of his own accord. Back in some corner of the Ancient Saint Domain, he'd been little more than a street thug. He'd only gained a little power to throw his weight around by cozying up to the young master of a small sect.
But before long, that young master offended a seventh-grade sect, and everything changed.
The young master belonged to a third-grade sect. There was no way he could stand up to a behemoth like a seventh-grade sect.
To be honest, Luo Dapang had played a part in offending that seventh-grade sect.
But whether by good luck or bad, the War of Ten Thousand Races had just begun. The seventh-grade sect didn't kill Luo Dapang and the others outright; instead, they sent the entire third-grade sect to the battlefield to make up the numbers.
Yet just a few days after they arrived, every member of the third-grade sect was dead.
At the critical moment, Luo Dapang abandoned his young sect master and managed to survive by the skin of his teeth.
But there was no denying it: Luo Dapang had been incredibly lucky.
As the saying went, those who survived a great disaster were bound to have good fortune afterward!
Not long after escaping, Luo Dapang stumbled upon two forces locked in battle. Both sides had World Lord Realm experts: the Devils and the humans.
By sheer coincidence, neither force won. They