What had happened to the alien races could be said to have stunned the Daluo Realm of the Mythical Realm.
This was no longer a question of whether the losses were great or small. It was practically equivalent to the extermination of an entire race.
Yes, eight hundred thousand had escaped alive.
But the alien races had originally been a vast, multi-ethnic collective, bringing together thousands upon thousands of different species. Of the eight hundred thousand remaining now, at most only a dozen or so species were left.
Although the alien races had suffered catastrophic losses, the Mythical Realm did not refuse their arrival because of it.
At the very least, quite a few of their top-tier combatants remained. They still had more than twenty Daluo Realm cultivators, with total combat strength equivalent to two-thirds of the Mythical Realm's.
Evil Nature's eruption this time had, in a sense, driven both sides to the edge of a cliff.
If they continued to remain scattered, then barring surprises, they would be defeated one by one.
They might as well consolidate their remaining fighting strength and see if they could break through Evil Nature's seal and send word to the Saints sealed within Daluo Heaven.
Before long, the two sides joined forces.
The moment they saw one another, everyone's feelings became incomparably complicated.
Not long ago, the alien races had held an almost crushing advantage over the Mythical Realm in battle. If war broke out, even the upper echelon would have had little chance of victory. There was no helping it—the numerical gap was simply too great. The Mythical Realm could only use the threat of even if I die, I'll drag a few of you down with me as deterrence.
Who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, the