Zhang Wentong stared blankly ahead. The Devil God Gate had consumed much of the Myriad Devil God Formation's power, and now it dissolved into spiritual energy, merging into heaven and earth.
Ashes returned to ashes, dust to dust.
"There is still a chance, still a chance..."
The head of the Otherworldly Devil Sect, vomiting blood nearby, crawled over and seized Zhang Wentong by the hem of his robe. He stared at Zhang Wentong, his gaze as hard as stone.
Yet Zhang Wentong suddenly gave a soft huff, as if laughing at himself. Slowly turning toward the Divine Capital, he said, "His heart is iron."
"Impossible. If we mobilize the remaining strength, we may be able to summon the Great Devil Heaven Gate. Then, we would not be summoning a single Devil God, but several Devil Gods descending at once—perhaps even stronger and more numerous than last time."
"To him, the time has not yet come," Zhang Wentong said.
"But if he does nothing, the entire lineage of devil cultivators will be utterly severed!"
Zhang Wentong asked softly, "What does it have to do with him if every last one of us dies?"
"B-but... he is the master of devil cultivators..."
"He is also the master of the realm, the master of the common people. When have you ever seen him care about the life and death of the masses?"
"B-but... we are all devil cultivators..."
"We are still only human," Zhang Wentong murmured.
"But..."
The devil cultivators nearby suddenly seemed to realize something, yet they could not put it into words.
They looked at the starlight in every direction, at the orthodox cultivators ahead of them, and for some reason, could no longer summon any urge to resist.
Before their eyes, those people they had killed continued to appear.
Before,