Rebuilding the Immortal Cultivator Clan Chapter 1966: 1452: Surrender

The conflict is drawing to a close at last!

Under Li Zhixuan's command, the attackers endured massive losses in lives before they overpowered the local inhabitants of This Realm, securing a hard-fought triumph.

While not all bore injuries, scarcely anyone emerged without harm. She too appeared completely disheveled, her garments shredded, her form smeared with gore and tissue—part hers, part from foes.

They began with over ten thousand cultivators, yet fewer than half endure now!

The called-upon rogue cultivators endured severe casualties, and the Li family members didn't escape much better.

Yet, when set against the roughly eighty percent death toll of This Realm's natives, their own toll appeared less severe.

“Ancestor Xuan, a band of leftover Devil Beasts and Demon Cultivators is heading toward their base. Do we dispatch forces to chase and block them?” In that instant, an elder approached, his expression fatigued as he inquired.

Li Zhixuan surveyed the drained appearances of all. Though she yearned to capitalize and crush the surviving locals outright, alas, circumstances forbade it!

Moreover, she herself possessed the desire yet lacked the power, far too fatigued to hunt the foes.

“Allow them to flee. Following this clash, the core troops of This Realm's natives have been all but eradicated. They pose little further threat. All should recuperate first prior to any further plans.”

Once her words ended, the elder showed a slight easing of tension.

Evidently, pursuit was the last thing he desired, though duty compelled the question. At last, his preference was granted.

Nevertheless, rest was possible for most—but not for the remaining Array Masters, tasked with erecting a defensive array around the encampment!

While the odds of another assault by This Realm's natives were low, they could not be entirely dismissed.

It was only upon witnessing a ribbon of yellowish spiritual glow ascend that Li Zhixuan truly unwound. She withdrew to her cavern abode, began ingesting elixirs, mending injuries, and replenishing her spiritual energy.

In truth, despite dismantling the primary forces of the realm's locals, the leftover Devil Beasts and Demon Cultivators retained considerable might!

And should they refuse submission, another fierce confrontation loomed ahead.

…

On the opposing front, meanwhile.

The band of Devil Beasts and Demon Cultivators who evaded demise raced back to their fortified peak in panic.

Their arrival swiftly attracted notice, particularly as others beheld their gashes, their ranks dwindled to a mere one or two thousand, every one seeming stunned and adrift—right away, the battle's result dawned on all. Complexions blanched to ashen hues, forms on the brink of crumbling.

“We lost? How is it possible we lost?! We deployed tens of thousands, virtually our full elite contingent. How could such power still fall to those outsiders crippled by the Heavenly Dao?!” A Devil Beast wailed, teetering on mental collapse, demanding answers in stunned repetition.

Yet how could they reply? Defeat was defeat.

Moreover, the survivors weren't superior in might; they merely positioned at the fray's periphery, dodging the fiercest carnage, and enjoyed a touch more fortune than others—that alone preserved their lives on the return.

Thus, they truly had no grasp of the precise events or the abrupt downturn's cause.

“Damn it! Damn it!”

Confronting these nearly terror-stricken returnees, helpless fury was all they could muster.

Ultimately, though, they lingered in hopelessness, clueless on the path forward.

“Should we rally the leftover forces and, exploiting the foes' post-battle exhaustion and wounds, clash in a final stand? What odds of success do you estimate?”

“Heh…”

With a icy chuckle, a Demon Cultivator replied, “Observe those nearby. Believe they retain any fight in them? The other remnants are chiefly low- and middle-tier—not fit even for expendable roles.”

“In that scenario, forget parity; it'd equate to marching to our own doom!”

Though blunt, the statement rang accurate.

Beyond the one or two thousand who returned unscathed, the mountain's other Devil Beasts and Demon Cultivators consisted solely of middle- or low-tier Mortal Realm sorts. On that kind of field, they offered zero value!

Once they'd mustered sufficient numbers and arrived at the adversary's site, one or two hours would have passed since the prior skirmish concluded.

Assuming the enemies possessed ample elixirs, that interval would restore fifty to sixty percent of their spiritual energy.

“Then what's our course now?”

The Devil Beast exploded, “Are we merely to await slaughter idly?!”

Barring the suicide-inclined or those steeped in total despondency, none desired passive execution!

Silence enveloped the area at once.

“The sole alternative remains: yield, serve as their underlings, permit the Floating Light Realm to serve as their outpost.” After an extended pause, a Demon Cultivator uttered darkly.

Yet a Devil Beast creased his brow and countered, “But would they accept our submission?”

Should the Demonic Tao retain opportunity, as humans they might, but the Devil Race, being outsiders, likely lacked even surrender's privilege!

Beings unlike us harbor differing intents.

This truth extended beyond human knowledge—the Devil Race comprehended it fully as well.

As in this very conflict, absent the existential peril to the Floating Light Realm, Devil Race and Demonic Tao would never have allied.

That comment ushered in renewed quietude across the gathering.