However, by now, the one person who had the qualifications to kill him was already gone. And so, for him, everything in this world had lost all meaning — he could slaughter at will.
Before the River of Time and Space, Zhang Ruoxi and Mo Yao faced each other from a distance. The former remained on constant guard, while the latter showed no unusual movement, simply gazing quietly at the great river that stretched across the void, watching the waves churn and the currents surge within.
On another front, the Human Race army wove through the vast battlefield like a swimming dragon, continuously slicing into the Mo Cult army's formations, devouring one contingent of Mo Cult forces after another.
The results were remarkable.
The Small Stone Race army clashed with the Mo Cult forces with complete disregard for death, and at every moment, countless life forces withered away in the void.
This was a battle of unprecedented ferocity throughout all of history. The total forces committed to the battlefield by the three warring parties had already exceeded one billion.
Among them, the Small Stone Race army numbered in the hundreds of millions. The Mo Cult army was nearly twice the size of the Small Stone Race's forces. The Human Race, on the other hand, had fewer than three million — not even a fraction of the combined armies.
Though vastly outnumbered, the Human Race's average individual strength was the greatest of the three. After all, every Human soldier who could participate in the expedition was at minimum a Fourth-Order Open Heaven cultivator, and thousands of years of accumulation had produced a great many Seventh- and Eighth-Order powerhouses on the Human side.
Neither the Small Stone Race nor the Mo Cult could compare in this regard. Though both sides had vastly superior numbers, the overwhelming majority were expendable foot soldiers of little strength. The Mo Cult was particularly affected — the moment their hordes of cannon fodder clashed with the Human Race army, they were annihilated in swathes.
However, the shortage of manpower was an insurmountable weakness. While the Human Race army could certainly sweep through like an unstoppable force in the short term, gradually whittling away at the Mo Cult, they could not sustain such momentum for long.
The expedition had been initiated by the Human Race, but ultimately, it was the Small Stone Race army that bore the brunt of the war. Had Zhang Ruoxi not brought the Small Stone Race to their aid, the Humans would likely have been defeated the moment the Primordial Heaven Grand Seal was broken. It had to be said — this was the tragedy of the era.
Countless Small Stone Race warriors fell, crumbling into scattered stones across the battlefield. The Holy Spirits who wielded the Sun-Moon Marks continuously channeled the power of the marks, drawing out the Sun and Moon energy from the fallen Small Stone warriors and fusing it into purification light — slaying enemies while simultaneously cleansing the battlefield's environment.
It was precisely by means of this technique that the allied forces of the Human Race and Small Stone Race were able to continually hold their own against the Mo Cult.
Then there were the two colossal spirit gods, A-Da and A-Er. On such a chaotic battlefield, they were like fish in water. With no Mo Cult forces capable of restraining them, they were invincible beings — wherever they passed, mountains of corpses and seas of blood lay in their wake.
However, as the Mo Cult dispatched large numbers of King Lords to jointly besiege them, A-Da and A-Er gradually had their freedom restricted.
The battle raged on in full fury. The great war was devastating.
Every few days, the Human Race army had to withdraw behind the Small Stone Race lines for brief rest and recovery before moving out again.
Pure Yang Pass, which had been leading the charge, had been battered to a wreck, and it looked like it wouldn't hold for much longer. The Mo-Retreat Platform was in the same state. Such high-intensity, sustained combat was an enormous trial for every Human — to say nothing of the ordinary Open Heaven cultivators, even the Ninth-Order Open Heaven masters were beginning to struggle.
But given the current situation, the Human Race had no path of retreat. This was the final battle. Any withdrawal could lead to an end from which there would be no recovery. And so, from the highest ranks to the lowest, the entire Human army gritted their teeth and persevered.
One month after the final battle erupted, the situation began to grow clearer.
Aboard the battered Pure Yang Pass, Mi Jinglun's face was pale, dark circles ringed his eyes, and his forehead was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
His expenditure was enormous. As the commander of the Human Race army, the pressure he bore was greater than anyone else's — he had to observe the battlefield situation and make the right response at the right time. And as a Ninth-Order cultivator, he also had to channel the power of Pure Yang Pass to slay the enemy.
Under such tremendous drain, he had already begun to damage his foundation.
What made him feel even more helpless was that the current situation was highly unfavorable to the Human Race.
Within the Primordial Heaven Grand Seal, the Mo Cult's cultivators of strength were far too numerous, and their total forces exceeded the Small Stone Race's by more than two to one. After a month of fierce battle, the Mo Cult had begun to gradually gain the upper hand.
If things continued this way, within ten days to half a month, the Small Stone Race army would be defeated without question.