Chapter 90: Final Victory

In the end, he met a tragic fate because of his own greed and stupidity, with not even a sliver of a chance to escape.

With Liu Yun's death, the people in the cave seemed to regain freedom; they sang and danced to celebrate the tyrant's end, boldly emerged from the cavern, and openly unleashed long‑suppressed emotions before the public, ushering in the so‑called "new life."

After enduring oppression by the Demon Race, this batch of newcomer race appeared to awaken some primal instinct.

Having solved their food and shelter problem, they began to breed wildly, and the population multiplied severalfold in a short time.

However, they failed to realize the huge danger hidden behind this apparent prosperity: a portion of them were forced to become breeding tools, while the majority were offered as sacrifices to the Demon Race for forging the Witch‑slaying Sword.

Thirty years passed in a flash, and the space within the circle was filled by the rapidly growing population, making survival resources extremely scarce.

Many were pushed out of the safe zone, and in their ignorance they first thought of seeking the Jiuselu, because in their understanding the Jiuselu were deities that bestowed food and shelter, demanding devout service.

Seeing the Human Race approach voluntarily, the Jiuselu's eyes flashed with cruelty. They had long prepared slaughter knives, awaiting this moment.

"These humans are utterly foolish, strike!" the Demon Commander ordered coldly, his voice devoid of mercy.

Thus, the humans who were merrily rushing toward the Demon Race were instantly met with a bloody slaughter; their terrified eyes had not even time to let out a scream.

The ruthless attack swiftly claimed lives, and blood immediately soaked the ground.

The people inside the cave, after witnessing the tragedy, instantly fell into chaos, with fear spreading like a plague.

Everyone in the cramped space shoved and trampled each other, making the already overcrowded cavern even more disorderly.

The result of the chaos was that more people were forced out of the cave, still greeted by the Demon Race's cold slaughter knives.

Shockingly, the greatest casualties were not caused by the Demon Race's executioners waiting outside, but by the Human Race itself.

In extreme panic they lost reason, shoving and trampling each other, causing many innocents to perish, with the death toll far exceeding the losses directly inflicted by the Demon Race.

Later, those mountain‑high piles of corpses were ruthlessly cast out, becoming sacrifices for forging the Witch‑slaying Sword.

As a strong scent of blood spread, the Witch‑slaying Sword was finally completed, emitting a strange, bewitching crimson glow.

"Finally finished!" Jiuselu said, looking at the newly forged long sword, a spark of excitement flashing in his eyes, and addressed the nearby Bai Ze: "Let's go."

They have lingered in such a place far too long; now they do not wish to stay even a moment longer.

After obtaining the sword, Jiuselu decisively led everyone to withdraw quickly.

The Human Race remaining in the cave only breathed a slight sigh of relief after seeing the Demon Race depart.

At this point, the cave's population had dropped by more than half; gazing at the silent world outside, fear filled their hearts, no one dared to venture out to investigate, and they could only curl up silently inside the cave.

Meanwhile, atop the Demon Court, Taiyi Shen and Di Qu, after years of recuperation, gradually regained some strength.

Sitting in the Lingxiao Treasure Hall, Di Qu sighed, "This time we owe it to Mi Xi's assistance; otherwise Nüwa would never have let us off easily."

Recalling the scene, his brows knit tightly, his heart still trembling.

"If I had enough power, I would never have fallen to such a state," Taiyi Shen said, his face grim, angrily slamming the armrest.

Di Qu's gaze revealed resolve: "Our only way out now is to defeat the Wu Clan, dominate Honghuang, and reclaim everything we have lost."

At that moment, Bai Ze and Jiuselu hurried over, respectfully presenting the blood‑red, aura‑radiating treasure sword.

Taiyi Shen and Di Qu, seeing this, both rose and stared intently at the sword.

What had just been forged was the Witch‑slaying Sword.

"Marvelous! Marvelous! Marvelous!" Taiyi Shen exclaimed, taking the sword and praising it three times in a row, his face radiating boundless excitement.

He waved lightly, then grasped the long sword steadily, feeling the powerful energy surging from its blade, and thought to himself, comparing it with the previous one, "Compared to before, this Witch‑slaying Sword forged with newcomer race power seems several folds stronger."

"Today you have earned great merit!" Di Qu's voice echoed through the hall, announcing, "Return and prepare; when the Wu Lich War erupts, our Demon Race will surely claim ultimate victory."

His words were full of future expectations, as if he already foresaw the day when the Demon Race would rule the Vast Wilderness World.

Meanwhile, in the mortal realm, the newcomer race endured another two full months of hardship.

Deprived of food from the Jiuselu, they were forced to consume everything edible in the shelter, including grass roots and bark, leaving the interior barren and starkly contrasting with the world outside.

Finally, someone could no longer bear the torment of hunger and, shouting loudly, rushed out of the hideout recklessly.

The others in the cave had closed their eyes awaiting his bad news, but an unexpected thing occurred: after the man fled, he burst into loud laughter, "They're gone, they all left; our newcomer race can finally set foot on this land again."

"These newcomer people are truly pitiful."

From afar, Xiao Ling'er and Shan quietly watched everything unfolding, their eyes showing deep compassion and sighs.

Although compassion welled up, their purpose was clear: to assess the current state of the newcomer race, see how many survivors remained and their living conditions.

After a round of observation, though slightly disappointed, they grasped the situation overall.

"Let's go, Sister Ling'er, don't linger here any longer, lest it trouble you."

Shan looked at the rag‑clad, miserable newcomer race below, his brows knit, full of disdain, unwilling to stay even a moment.

Xiao Ling'er likewise showed an expression of unwillingness, gave a slight nod, and the two quickly left.

However, their silhouettes were seen by the first newcomer man who had rushed out.

The man had excellent eyesight; after dashing out, he hid among the nearby weeds. When he looked up, he happened to see the two's departing backs.

"Who exactly are these people?" the man wondered, "Why are their clothes so splendid? And why do they possess such great power?"

Deep within him, questions and awe intertwined, unable to settle.

Under the rules of the Heavenly Dao, there is a clear distinction between the newcomer race and the old Human Race.

Although they have gone separate ways, the bloodline still remains.

Thus, in that instant, the man recognized the other as his own kin.

However, the gap between them was as vast as heaven and earth. His kin were ragged and starving.

Whereas the other wore splendid robes, every move exuding extraordinary strength, even the manner of departure baffling him.