A golden humanoid creature appeared behind Liang Hui.
With palms pressed together, Mysterious Light wore a face of compassion, his golden eyes filled with pity.
"High Priest, will you abandon trillions of lives of the Human Race just like that?"
"If you leave, we will muster all our strength to attack, without further concern for the survival of our ancestral lands."
"I will wait for you!"
Liang Hui's pace remained unchanged, showing no sign of faltering, his arm nonchalantly waving aside.
A Central Great Realm, such a place does not simply collapse at their word, the Central World being so vast and solid, had long reached a limit.
Under the joint management of Liang Hui and Fu Yue, even if the Hundred Clans struck with all their might, it would still take a hundred years.
"High Priest, even if the trillions of lives of the Human Race cannot shake your heart, it is always good for them to be alive."
