"This seems a little cruel!" Vernie could not help covering his mouth. Tears streamed down his face as he burst into sobs like a delicate young woman.
Yet no one laughed at him, because everyone's eyes were moist.
This was the emotion brought by sacrifice.
"Cruel?" Wu Heng turned to look at Vernie, his expression calm. "It is indeed a little cruel."
"But evil creates evil."
"And only from this evil can we refine a measure of strength—an 'evil power' sufficient to defeat evil."
"At the very least, we now have a means of counterbalancing evil, even if the process is not particularly glorious."
"But before the word 'survival,' there is no good or evil."
"Those are matters for descendants who get to enjoy a peaceful world and live out their old age in comfort to consider."
Wu Heng's words left everyone present somewhat dazed.
But they soon came to their senses.
That was right.
As long as the person controlling the power was righteous, then the power was righteous.
In that instant just now, the thought that had arisen in some people's hearts—that they too were part of that painful evil, beings who harmed their own kin, with sinful power flowing through their bodies—vanished in an instant.
And their hearts became even more resolute.
They would tear apart even more evil spirits.
"Don't blink. All of you, watch carefully," the clan chief said through gritted teeth, his voice choked with sobs.
The Flesh-Weaving Machine's petals gradually grew to three. Their color became even brighter red, while the vines at its roots turned darker and darker.
Its size instantly expanded until it was as large as a house.
Under the sacrifice of exceptionally fine materials, it had already advanced into the Layered Petal state. Its thick root-vines alone, thorny as