A Four Symbols Formation couldn't stop Yang Kai's slaughter—it could only force him to resort to that bizarre soul secret technique that harmed both attacker and target alike.
Manayi wasn't unaware of this, but the formations the Mo Race Domain Lords could currently assemble were limited to this level, and he couldn't demand much more.
However, judging from the results, Yang Kai was clearly unwilling to deploy that soul technique casually—he probably didn't want to suffer soul damage either…
So after extorting supplies from the Domain Lords, he withdrew.
In truth, that was exactly the case. Back in the Xuanming Domain, Yang Kai had struck once every two hundred years, each time slaying several Innate Domain Lords with the assistance of the Xuanming Army's Eighth-Order Open Heaven cultivators. Back then, he needed to build momentum for the human race and lay the groundwork for future peace negotiations, so Yang Kai had spared no regard for his own soul—every strike was made for the sake of those thunderous blows!
But now the situation was different. This was merely about plundering supplies. Moreover, he had a meeting plan with Ouyang Lie and the others once every century. If he carelessly deployed the Soul-Extinguishing Thorn again and left his soul gravely wounded, it would only jeopardize all subsequent plans.
Otherwise, why would he have let those four Innate Domain Lords go so easily? He knew perfectly well that the more Domain Lords he killed, the less pressure the human race would face in the future.
Of course, the more important point was the supplies.
Killing a few Mo Race grunts didn't matter—the Mo Race wouldn't feel the sting. But if he truly killed those Innate Domain Lords, the matter would become irreconcilable. The Mo Race would never let him off the hook, and any talk of supplies would be off the table.
Everything now hinged on supplies!
The Mo Race's response was exactly what he expected. The two races were locked in a blood feud that could never be shared under the same sky. No matter how cordial he and Manayi appeared on the surface, the Mo Race would never hand over half their supplies based on his words alone.
So he had to make the Mo Race realize that if they didn't agree to his demands, the consequences would be something they couldn't bear. Only then would the Mo Race consider his proposal.
Robbing those supply convoys returning from deep within the Mo Battlefield was his statement!
If they wouldn't give fifty percent, he would take everything. Unless the Mo Race stopped sending teams to mine resources entirely—in which case there would be no risk of robbery—but doing so would cut off more than half of their supply provisions, severely impacting their future troop accumulation.
What surprised Yang Kai somewhat was that Manayi had personally taken action. Hadn't the fellow left Bugui Pass? Wasn't he afraid Yang Kai would go there and destroy the Mo Nests?
In the void, Manayi dismissed the four Domain Lords and ordered them to continue escorting the other supply convoys. He gripped the communication bead, channeling his thoughts into it.
Yet attempt after attempt sank into silence with no response whatsoever. Manayi gritted his teeth secretly—that bastard had probably stored the communication bead inside his Small Universe, making it abundantly clear he had no intention of contacting him again!
Time passed. Message after message came in from various directions deep in the void, and Manayi rushed from place to place, but every time he arrived a step too late.
Even with the Domain Lords forming defensive formations, they still couldn't withstand Yang Kai's plundering. One supply convoy after another was stripped clean—only a handful escaped unscathed.
Through one covert clash after another, Manayi came to deeply appreciate just how difficult Yang Kai was to deal with. The fellow had mastered spatial divine abilities and moved with unpredictable elusiveness. He would plunder the Mo Race in one stretch of void, and before long appear billions of miles away…
Over ten years, Manayi hadn't caught even a glimpse of Yang Kai's face. The closest they'd come was when Manayi faintly sensed fluctuations of spatial power from afar, but by the time he arrived at the scene, Yang Kai had already swaggered off.
And over these ten years, of the supply convoys returning from deep within the void to Bugui Pass, fewer than a hundred had made it back…
It should be noted that in order to mine resources, the Mo Race had dispatched massive numbers of teams deep into the Mo Battlefield to excavate everywhere. After all, the demand for supplies wasn't limited to the human race alone—up to a point, the Mo Race's need for resources was no less than that of the humans, perhaps even greater.
Every year, at least over a hundred convoys should have returned with supplies.
Yet now, after ten years, fewer than a hundred had come back. The rest… had all been seized by Yang Kai. This was far more than fifty percent—this was ninety percent!
The Mo Race's casualties weren't actually that severe. Some supply escort troops were caught in the crossfire, and while no Domain Lords died, the most that perished were Lords. But the critical supplies suffered devastating losses.
Over ten years, Manayi had been scouring the void for Yang Kai's trail, constantly attempting to contact him, but he never succeeded. What frustrated him even more was that Yang Kai showed absolutely no intention of going to Bugui Pass. Originally, under the Lord Master's plan, as long as Manayi showed himself, Yang Kai would likely head to Bugui Pass, using the safety of the Mo Nests to threaten the Mo Race and force them into accepting his outrageous demands.
If Yang Kai had actually done that, then the Lord Master and Meng Que, working together, would have had the chance to trap him. As long as they could hold him down and the Domain Lords deployed the Four Gates Eight Palaces Sumeru Formation, this killing star would have had no path to heaven or earth!
But over these ten years, Yang Kai had been wandering the void the entire time, never once visiting Bugui Pass. This left Manayi with a bitter sense of futility—as if the Mo Race had thrown a devastating punch straight into cotton.