The Ink Clan forces couldn't bring themselves to give chase any further. They had no way of confirming whether the humans had left any hidden contingencies behind. If the humans used the absence of the main army to rally their strength and launch a sneak attack on the Ink Nest, everything would be over.
Though unwilling, Domain Lord Chekong still issued the order to halt the pursuit, his face twisted with frustration as he watched the human fleet gradually disappear into the distance.
A grand battle between the two races like this ending so swiftly was truly a rare occurrence.
The main reason it had been possible was the humans' absolute discipline. Wherever Xiang Shan stood, that was where the colossal fleet pointed. He led the retreat from the Guard-grade warship he was stationed on, and every single warship in the fleet followed without the slightest hesitation or delay.
There had been no particular ingenuity to this battle. It relied on the effective coordination of the human commanders, the unity of tens of thousands of soldiers, and perhaps a small measure of luck.
From the moment the two armies charged into each other to the moment the human forces withdrew to a range of ten million li beyond the Royal City, the entire affair had taken no more than half an hour.
Yet in that mere half hour, the casualties inflicted on the Ink Clan were nearly equivalent to more than twenty years of raids combined.
And if one factored in the damage wrought by the Ancestor's two appearances, the toll would certainly surpass it. After all, three Eighth-rank Ink Slaves had been killed by the Ancestor alone, with even more wounded.
The Ink Clan had suffered terrible losses, but the humans had not escaped unscathed either.
Though the entire fleet had transformed into a great dragon under Xiang Shan's command, roaring across the battlefield in magnificent fashion, the Ink Clan's attacks were no joke.
There were always warships whose defenses broke. Once a warship's protective barrier fell, every soldier aboard would be thrown into mortal danger.
Alongside the fading auras of Ink Clan members, the battlefield was filled with the constant rumble of Small Universes collapsing, especially during the final breakout and retreat — the moment when casualties were most likely to occur.
The Eighth-rank Open Heaven cultivators had led their Guard-grade warships to cover the rear, but they couldn't guarantee everyone's safety. Human effort had its limits, and there were always moments when help simply couldn't arrive in time.
The Ink Clan's pursuit hadn't achieved the effect they'd hoped for, but for the human race, it still felt like a knife had been carved into their flesh.
This was a price that had to be paid. When the High Command of the Eastern and Western Armies had formulated today's battle plan, they had already anticipated this outcome.
But the plan had to be carried out. In war, people died — that was inevitable. The question was only how many died, and whether their deaths held meaning or not.
The High Command's plan could only do its best to keep human casualties to a minimum.
When the battle had first begun, the colossal fleet had surged forward with magnificent momentum.
Now, as they returned, their formation was still orderly, but the protective barriers on many warships had dimmed and flickered, and some warships' formations were constantly detonating with bursts of light — the telltale signs of formation collapse.
Yang Kai stood on the deck, his body drenched in Ink Blood, gazing out at the scene around him with a heavy heart.
The tranquility of the Three Thousand Worlds and the bloody carnage of the Ink Battlefield formed a stark and striking contrast. The billions of living beings back in the Three Thousand Worlds would likely never know, from beginning to end, that a group of elite cultivators from various Blessed Lands and Hollow Paradises had been fighting the Ink Clan in a battlefield like this, silently defending their homeland with their blood.
The names of those who fell in battle would only be carved upon the Heroic Spirits Stele for future generations to remember. But as those who had known them gradually passed away, all that would remain was a name — not even a proper memory.
A wisp of fragrant wind drifted over as Feng Ying came to stand beside him.
Yang Kai turned to look at her and asked with concern, "How is everyone's condition?"
Feng Ying replied, "Nothing fatal. Junior Brother Yu's Small Universe took a shock and will need several years of recovery. Junior Brother Ning lost an arm, but it's been reattached and will return to normal once he's healed. The others have no serious injuries — just minor wounds."
Yang Kai nodded slightly.
The Junior Brother Yu that Feng Ying referred to was Yu Ziyou. He and Ren Bingbai were the two Seventh-rank cultivators newly recruited when the Dawn team was expanded.
Junior Brother Ning was naturally Ning Zhiqi from the Danyang Blessed Land, a veteran of Dawn who had been a core member since the team's founding — and also one of the Ink Slaves Yang Kai had brought back from deep within the Ink Clan's territory in the early days.
In a battle like this, the Seventh-rank cultivators were far more likely to suffer injuries than the middle-grade Open Heaven cultivators. This was because Seventh-rank Open Heaven cultivators fought outside the warships, unlike Miao Feiping and the other middle-grade Open Heaven cultivators who sheltered inside. As long as the warship's defenses held, they were in no danger.
However, while the middle-grade cultivators could rely on warship defenses, once a warship sustained heavy damage, the danger they faced would be even greater, since their strength couldn't compare to that of upper-grade Open Heaven cultivators.
Even a team as elite as Dawn — in just half an hour of combat — had all eight of its Seventh-rank members, Yang Kai included, come away wounded. Ning Zhiqi had even lost an arm. One could only imagine how fierce the battle had been.
Of course, this was partly because Dawn had been positioned toward the outer perimeter, where the pressure they faced in the heat of battle was greater than that of ordinary squads.
"I wonder how many people died," Feng Ying sighed suddenly.
Yang Kai said nothing. The dead were gone. The living had no choice but to keep moving forward.
Strictly speaking, this battle had been a great victory. The disparity in forces between the two sides had been dozens to one, yet the ratio of casualties had also been dozens to one — perhaps even more.
But even such a great victory brought no joy upon their return. This was merely the first direct confrontation between the Eastern and Western Armies and the Great Evolution Ink Clan in the truest sense. Far more brutal battles lay ahead, and only when the Great Evolution Ink Clan had been eradicated and the Great Evolution Pass reclaimed would there be cause for celebration.