From any perspective, the races of the Heavens and Myriad Worlds hated the Primordial Divine Saint Clan about as much as they hated the Empire.
That was inevitable.
The rise of a race inevitably came with plunder and destruction. Only through those things could a race continue to prosper.
No joke.
There were no fewer races that wanted the Empire dead than races that wanted the Primordial Divine Saint Clan dead.
They were all the same. Neither had any right to criticize the other.
The Primordial Divine Saint Clan did nothing remotely decent, but how much better could the Empire be?
The only thing that made the Empire somewhat better was that it would leave you alone if you did not provoke it. The Primordial Divine Saint Clan, however, was nothing like that.
The Primordial Divine Saint Clan genuinely treated the races of the Heavens and Myriad Worlds as medicinal ingredients.
Living beings? Races? No such thing. They were merely the clan's herb gardens. Once the herbs ripened, it was time to harvest them.
On that point, the Empire was a little better than the Primordial Divine Saint Clan, but only a little.
After all, the Primordial Divine Saint Clan used the myriad races as medicinal ingredients, while the Empire used the Primordial Divine Saint Clan as medicinal ingredients. Perfectly reasonable. Perfectly reasonable indeed.
As the saying went, my neighbor stockpiled grain, while I stockpiled guns. My neighbor was my granary.
From the Primordial Era to the present, the grudges between the Primordial Divine Saint Clan and the Empire had long since become impossible to untangle.
Yet neither could do anything about it. The Empire could not wipe out the Primordial Divine Saint Clan, and the Primordial Divine Saint Clan could not wipe out the Empire.
Whenever either side fell