Cold, utterly unyielding, it carried an oppressively heavy, stifling resolve to embrace death.
It tightly enveloped every inch of the Giant Beast's surface, shutting out every trace of warmth from outside.
Zhou Xuan muttered under his breath as he increased his output of divine power.
"This won't work. It won't accept this at all."
More concentrated vow power continued pouring in. This time, instead of simply conveying the general idea of protecting home, he wove in concrete scenes from Jade Dragon City: awakened cultivators training, craftsmen repairing houses, and children running on the drill grounds.
These were living, breathing people, a rear line that was truly alive.
Metal-colored light surged toward the Giant Beast again.
This time, the light lingered for half a breath.
Then it was repelled even more violently.
A low rumble rose from the Giant Beast's chest. The immense sound shook the surrounding air and left Zhou Xuan's ears buzzing. He could barely make out the fragmented echoes of those obsessions.
"Unworthy..."
"No face to go back..."
"Trash that lost its position... how could we show our faces..."
Zhou Xuan's stomach clenched violently.
He understood completely.
It was not that the vow power was insufficiently pure, nor that the civilians behind the lines were insufficiently sincere.
The truth was precisely the opposite.
The more peaceful the rear lines were, the more the civilians called for them to stay, the more ashamed these veterans from ten thousand years ago felt.
They had dutifully guarded their position all their lives, only to be forced to leave because of the Demon Spikes within them. In their rigid understanding, leaving meant failure. It meant losing the line.
To them, the civilians' words of "thank you for all you've done" or "come back" were no comfort at all, but condescending pity for