"Are there any Divinity Transformation cultivators left in the Northern Plains Human Race?"
"Just to let things go like this?"
Jiang Ding frowned.
This was uncertain.
In the eyes of many high-rank cultivators, mortals are a species that can grow in large numbers in a hundred years; if they die, they die.
If the demon race can be dealt with later, in at most a few hundred years, allowing natural growth and reproduction, it will be yet another prosperous land of the human race.
Even if one were to consider the darker side of things, this might be intentional.
The Northern Plains has seen constant rebellions, with cultivators betraying their principles deeply, and slaughtering the noble bloodlines of the King's Court without any reverence, not seeing themselves as lowly compared to those noble bloodlines, believing that their fate is in their own hands, not in heaven's.
These cultivators, as well as the vast mortals they influenced, if they die, they die.
