The azure-clad youth arrived at the battlefield, crossed it, and entered the Rainbow Realm Sea.
He was like a traveler returning home after tens of thousands of years on the road, weary and covered in dust. He found his house without hesitation. Beside it, a crowd of ants and butterflies had gathered, their colors fluttering, a lovely sight that brought life to its surroundings.
Then nothing.
The world around them, the entire battlefield of savage slaughter, seemed to freeze. Sound vanished. The fighting stopped.
Everyone shuddered.
Hiss...
Ming Guangzi drew a sharp breath. A chill ran through him, and fear rose in his heart.
He was becoming more and more like them.
Like the Great Sun Sword Lords of ages past, especially Xi Yuan.
To him, the lives and deaths of all beings, especially sword cultivators, seemed almost like a game.
This was fate. This was glory. This was opportunity.
How could a merciful Great Sun Sword Lord steal his subordinates' opportunities?
Perhaps he had merely found them noisy.
There was no Dao Child here, so there was no enemy for him.
Perhaps only citizens of the Eastern Extreme Demon Sect could awaken his humanity. Apart from them, even if every Great Sun sword cultivator died, not a ripple would stir in his heart.
The fate of Great Sun sword cultivators lay on the battlefield, in death. There was nothing strange about it.
Without enemies, a Great Sun sword cultivator's life would never be complete. There would be no hope, only a lifetime of gray darkness without a trace of light.
That would be worse than death.
Putting himself in their place, the Great Sun Sword Lord would never interfere with his subordinates' battles, even if every one of them fell.
As the sages said, do not impose on others