He stood upon the shattered Human Ancestor Mountain.
Walking toward the Human Race.
The land lay scarred and ravaged.
Zhuang Shiyuan's eyes were yellowed and clouded, his body covered in Dao wounds. Recovering from such injuries would be no easier than cultivating anew to become an Eight-Tribulation Immortal. He was practically crippled. He watched Sheng Chang'an stagger toward him, step by step.
At this moment, he no longer resembled the Human Race's rising star who had shaken the Boundless Immortal Domain, the Eight-Tribulation Dao Lord. Instead, he looked like a helpless, lost young man. The Human Race's future was bleak and devoid of light...
"...Brother Chang'an." Blood tears streamed from the corners of Zhuang Shiyuan's eyes. His whole body trembled, and his grief-stricken voice shook the heavens and earth in every direction. "Our Human Race... has suffered a crushing defeat."
His master had died in battle.
The eight ancient clans of the Human Race, whose might had awed the ages, had sunk into the Immortal Realm. The blessings of the mountains and rivers had been severed by the Human Dao Supreme Sword. Countless Human Race Immortal sages and forebears had perished. The Human Emperor, Jiang Gongzhu... generation after generation of Immortals, those who had wielded swords—the Human Race!
The appearance of the Human Dao Supreme Sword had severed the last trace of their will to fight to the death.
He stared fixedly at Sheng Chang'an as he approached, and an almost imperceptible ferocity appeared on his face. The Human Race would surely rise again. Such a blood feud would certainly be repaid, blood for blood, debt for debt!!
Zhuang Shiyuan's thoughts were also the thoughts of most Human Race cultivators.
They had not admitted defeat. They were merely afraid for the moment.
"Shiyuan, can you still stand? Kneeling there does