The hatred between good and evil goes far beyond your imagination. After the first divine war that lasted eons, the second war between gods and demons has erupted. This time, both sides were fighting with bloodshot eyes, and half of the survivors from the first war were wiped out again. In the thousand years that followed, there were five more great wars, each time eliminating half of the remaining survivors.” Xin Mei’s face turned deathly pale. “Nowadays, the number of divine races left in this heavenly realm can be counted on one’s fingers. Especially the lower divine races, some have been completely exterminated, while others, like me, have only one left of their kind.”
Yang Hao clearly understood the feeling of being exterminated. Although Hun Yuanzi was no longer around, he had told countless times about the pain of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect being wiped out, the heart-wrenching agony of watching brothers and family being killed, the loneliness of aimlessly drifting in the universe, and the unbearable solitude of a thousand years of isolation. Hun Yuanzi had died, but Yang Hao inherited his legacy.
“Seven great wars, countless deaths and injuries. Finally, both the gods and demons realized that if they continued fighting like this, the only outcome would be mutual annihilation; there could be no victor. So, after a thousand years, both sides finally began negotiations. These arduous talks eventually brought peace to the current heavenly realm.” Xin Mei stared blankly at Yang Hao. “Do you understand how hard-won this peace in the heavenly realm really is? Hundreds of races have been wiped out, tens of thousands of gods have been killed, blood flowed like floods. Each of these divine races could destroy an entire planet just by stepping out, but here, tens of thousands of high-ranking divine warriors were slaughtered like grass. Do you understand how bloody and cruel that was?”
Yang Hao remained silent; he had nothing to say.
“To preserve the remaining divine races in the heavenly realm, Elder Yun Shang has continuously compromised with the dragon race, giving them every benefit first, just so we lower divine races could barely survive. But you…”
“Do you gods have the right to live while I don’t?” Yang Hao boldly patted Xin Mei’s butt. The goddess’s behind was indeed something else, round and firm.
“Ahhh!” Xin Mei screamed. Only then did she realize that she had been lying on top of Yang Hao all this time, a posture so humiliating it was beyond words.
“You gods are selfish to the extreme!” Taking advantage of Xin Mei’s momentary confusion and before she could think about revenge, Yang Hao quickly changed the subject.
This tactic actually worked. Xin Mei immediately forgot about being molested by Yang Hao. “Say that again? How are we selfish?”
“You gods are the only ones that matter. You gods are the ones who should live in peace and harmony. But someone like me can only be tricked in here to become breakfast for dragons?” Yang Hao’s tone was sarcastic, yet clearly gaining the upper hand.
“That… that’s not fair. Your power is so weak. You are a lower life form; sacrificing yourselves for us is only natural. Would you care about the lives of a few ants?”
“Even if I’m inferior, I still have family and loved ones just like you.” Yang Hao grew angry. “I have people I love, brothers I have bled with, the Haotian Sword Group to take care of, and my master’s vengeance to fulfill.”
“Your master is dead.”
“My master may be dead, but his sect still exists.” Yang Hao’s eyes flared with rage as soon as Hun Yuanzi was mentioned. “His vengeance is mine. There’s no difference.”
“So you can’t die?” Xin Mei crossed her arms and stared coldly at Yang Hao.
Yang Hao, however, fell silent, so silent that even the roars of the dragons outside the stone house became unbearably loud. Obviously, after Yun Shang went out, things hadn’t been calmed down at all; instead, the three dragons became even more ferocious. Yang Hao could feel the house constantly shaking, and the stone-built dwelling was on the verge of collapse. In the eyes of these high-ranking divine races, even the strongest house was truly fragile.
“You’re wrong. I should go sacrifice myself.” Suddenly, Yang Hao burst into laughter. He looked at Xin Mei mockingly, his raised eyebrows as if telling the goddess that his thoughts were unfathomable to others. “I’m going out right now and let those dragons do whatever they want with me.”
This sudden change was something Xin Mei couldn’t have possibly predicted.
“What did you say?” Xin Mei stammered, “Did I hear you correctly?”
“I said I should go sacrifice myself. I’m going to meet those dragons now.” True to his word, Yang Hao didn’t wait for the goddess’s reaction and boldly strode toward the exit.
The dragons’ roars, accompanied by the howling wind from their flapping wings, grew louder and more intense outside the house. Clearly, the situation was about to explode.
Xin Mei was almost fainting. If others didn’t understand the consequences of Yang Hao going out now, Xin Mei certainly did. As a lower divine race, she had seen more than once the battles between divine races and had witnessed the dragons slaughtering their own kind.
In this world, divine races were divided into different ranks based on their innate abilities. Xin Mei and the Holy Bear were divine beings whose combat strength did not exceed level fifty. Even strong humans could surpass them, so they belonged to the lower divine races. They were numerous in the universe and held relatively low status.
For example, divine beings like Garuda were recorded in the myths of many planets. They were famous gods with combat strength in the hundreds. Though categorized as middle-tier divine races, they were worshipped by many followers and were powerful war gods that could not be ignored.
However, when it came to true powerhouses, only the Shans and the dragons could claim that title. These two were the ultimate forces in the universe. Their combat strength could reach tens of thousands. When enraged, they could slaughter lower divine races as easily as cutting grass.
The hatred between good and evil far exceeds your imagination. Shortly after the first divine war, the second war between gods and demons erupted. This time, both sides fought with even greater ferocity, wiping out half of the survivors from the first war. Over the next thousand years, five more great wars followed, each time slaughtering half of the remaining survivors.” Xinmei’s face turned deathly pale. “By now, the number of divine clans in this realm can be counted on one hand. Especially the lower-tier divine clans—some were completely annihilated, while others, like me, have only a single survivor left.”
Yang Hao understood the pain of annihilation all too well. Though Hunyuanzi was no longer with him, the old man had recounted the agony of the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect’s destruction countless times—the bloody heartache of watching brothers and loved ones slaughtered, the loneliness of drifting helplessly through the cosmos, the thousand-year solitude gnawed by endless isolation. Hunyuanzi was gone, but Yang Hao had inherited that pain.
“Seven great wars, countless casualties. Finally, both gods and demons realized that continuing this fight would only lead to mutual annihilation, with no victors left. After a thousand years, they finally began negotiations—painstaking talks that eventually brought peace to the divine realm.” Xinmei stared blankly at Yang Hao. “Do you understand how hard-won this peace is? Hundreds of clans were wiped out, tens of thousands of gods slaughtered. Blood flowed like raging floods. Any one of these divine beings could obliterate an entire planet, yet here, they were cut down like weeds by the upper-tier gods with power levels in the tens of thousands. Do you comprehend such brutality?”
Yang Hao remained silent. There was nothing he could say.
“To preserve what little remains of the divine clans, Elder Yunshang has made concession after concession to the dragon clans, offering them every benefit first, just so lower-tier clans like ours can barely survive. But you—”
“You gods want to live, but am I not allowed to live too?” Yang Hao boldly patted Xinmei’s backside—the goddess’s rear was indeed as round and springy as rumored.
“Ah!” Xinmei shrieked, suddenly realizing she had been pinning Yang Hao down in an embarrassingly compromising position.
“You gods are the most selfish beings imaginable!” Yang Hao seized the moment while Xinmei was still disoriented, deftly changing the subject.
The tactic worked. Xinmei immediately forgot about Yang Hao’s impropriety. “Say that again! How are we selfish?”
“Only your lives matter? Only you deserve peace and survival, while people like me are just bait for dragons?” Yang Hao’s sarcastic tone gave him the clear upper hand.
“That’s…” Xinmei faltered. “You’re weak, lower life forms. Sacrificing for us is natural. Do you care about the lives of a few ants?”
“Even if I’m ‘lower,’ I have family and loved ones just like you,” Yang Hao retorted angrily. “I have people I care about, brothers who’ve bled with me, the Haojian Sect to protect, and my master’s vengeance to fulfill.”
“Your master is dead.”
“But his legacy lives on.” Mentioning Hunyuanzi made Yang Hao’s eyes burn with fury. “My master’s vengeance is mine—there’s no difference.”
“So you refuse to die?” Xinmei crossed her arms, glaring coldly.
Yang Hao suddenly grew quiet—so quiet that the dragons’ roars outside the stone hut became deafeningly sharp. Clearly, Yunshang’s attempts at mediation had failed, only enraging the three dragons further. The hut trembled violently; even stone walls couldn’t withstand the upper-tier gods’ wrath.
“You’re wrong. I *should* go die.” Yang Hao burst into laughter, his mocking gaze and raised eyebrows silently telling Xinmei his thoughts were beyond her comprehension. “I’ll walk out now and let those dragons do as they please.”
This abrupt shift left Xinmei stunned.
“What did you say?” she gaped.
“I said I’ll go die—right now, facing those dragons.” True to his word, Yang Hao strode out without waiting for her response.
Outside, the dragons’ roars and wingbeats grew fiercer, signaling imminent violence.
Xinmei nearly fainted. She knew better than anyone what awaited Yang Hao. As a lower-tier goddess, she had witnessed divine battles and dragon massacres firsthand.
In this world, divine beings were ranked by innate power. Lower-tier gods like Xinmei and the Sacred Bear had power levels below 50—surpassable even by strong humans. Mid-tier gods, such as the Garuda, featured in myths across galaxies with power levels in the hundreds, worshipped as mighty war deities.
But true supremacy belonged only to the Shining Ones and the dragons—cosmic forces with power levels exceeding ten thousand. When angered, they slaughtered lower-tier gods like mowing grass.
A black dragon’s wingbeat could stir stars; its breath made dimensions tremble. In the seven divine wars, dragons had reveled in carnage, slaughtering gods effortlessly—Xinmei’s kin hadn’t stood a chance.
Yang Hao’s power level was a mere 15—impressive for a human but insignificant among gods. His earlier victories against Black Savage and Xinmei were pure luck. Against dragons, he’d be a gnat—swatted at will.
Watching Yang Hao march out, Xinmei realized he was walking to his death with defiant courage. Not even Yunshang’s intervention could save him now.
“You… suicidal fool!” Though unwilling to sacrifice divine peace for Yang Hao, Xinmei felt a pang watching him go. “Aren’t you afraid to die?”
“Terrified. I don’t want to die,” Yang Hao’s voice echoed from beyond the stone door. “But the thought of a mere human saving you lofty gods? That’s exhilarating.”
Xinmei fell silent, awed by the truth in Yang Hao’s audacity. The fate of countless gods, herself included, now rested in his hands. His sacrifice could end the bloodshed.
What she didn’t grasp was Yang Hao’s true motivation.
As sunlight hit his face upon exiting, Yang Hao knew there was no turning back. Yet driving him wasn’t just the desire to see gods cower—it was fear.
A fear he’d buried deep, unshown even before dragons, Yunshang, or Xinmei.
Once, Yang Hao had been a directionless, timid youth. Meeting Hunyuanzi changed that, granting not just power over his destiny but the courage to live boldly. The eccentric old man had given Yang Hao something soul-deep—his first true nurturing.
Now, with Hunyuanzi gone, Yang Hao felt adrift. His master’s dying wish—to live, fulfill his duties, avenge their sect—left him strengthless, pathless.
Yang Hao didn’t seek death. But if dying could atone for his mistakes and save the gods, becoming their unlikely human savior—he’d embrace it gladly.
So he stepped out, facing Yunshang and the others with a sunlit smile.
Even prepared, the sight stunned him. Xinmei’s warnings about the dragons’ might had been understated—the reality dwarfed them.
Beyond the hut stretched an endless plain, its grass unnaturally lush from divine reshaping. But the true terror was the battlefield unfolding—a clash between righteous white and malevolent black.
Yang Hao’s current combat strength was merely fifteen, which might be considered high among humans, but in the heavenly realm, he couldn’t even compare to Xin Mei. Previously, Yang Hao managed to severely wound Hei Man and subdue Xin Mei purely by luck. In a real fight, Yang Hao would be as insignificant as a mosquito in the sky, and the dragons could kill him however they pleased.
Yang Hao’s calm departure was, in Xin Mei’s eyes, nothing short of a noble act of self-sacrifice. Walking in front of the enraged dragons like this, not only would he be unable to save himself, but even if Yun Shang joined in, there was no way they could save Yang Hao’s life.
“You… are going to sacrifice yourself!” Although Xin Mei always believed that she couldn’t sacrifice the peace of the divine races for Yang Hao, watching him actually head to his death still left her feeling empty inside. “Don’t you fear death?”
“I do fear death, and I don’t want to die.” Yang Hao’s voice came from outside the stone door. “But for a mere human like me to save you lofty gods is just too satisfying, absolutely exhilarating.”
Xin Mei had no words left. She was not only worried about Yang Hao’s fate, but what truly astonished her was that Yang Hao’s arrogant words were actually true. Now, the fate of so many divine races, including Xin Mei’s, rested in Yang Hao’s hands. If Yang Hao sacrificed himself, he could restore peace to the divine races and stop the bloodshed here.
In truth, Xin Mei had no idea what was going on in Yang Hao’s mind.
As Yang Hao calmly stepped out of the stone room, the first rays of sunlight hit his eyes, and he knew this was a path with no return. However, what drove Yang Hao to do this was not entirely his desire to see the divine races’ fearful expressions. More than anything, it was a kind of fear.
Yes, it was indeed fear, deeply buried in Yang Hao’s heart, never revealed even when facing dragons, Yun Shang, or Xin Mei.
The former Yang Hao was a timid and indecisive teenager. It wasn’t until he met Hun Yuanzi that his fate changed. He not only gained the power to control his own future but also found the courage to live confidently. Yang Hao understood clearly that all of this was given to him by Hun Yuanzi. Although the old man was sometimes ridiculous, he gave Yang Hao something spiritual, the first true care Yang Hao had ever experienced in his life.
But now Hun Yuanzi was gone. Suddenly, Yang Hao found himself without direction. Although Hun Yuanzi, before his death, had told Yang Hao to live on, to shoulder his responsibilities, and to avenge his sect, Yang Hao survived but couldn’t find a path forward. He couldn’t even feel the strength to continue living inside his body.
Yang Hao didn’t want to die, but if death could solve the mess he had caused and save those lofty divine races, if he, as a human, could become the savior of the divine races, Yang Hao would not oppose it. He would embrace it willingly.
That was why he stepped out the door, smiling brightly as he stood before Yun Shang and the others.
Even though he had mentally prepared himself, Yang Hao was still shocked by the scene before him. He had always thought that Xin Mei was exaggerating the dragons’ might to scare him, but now he realized that Xin Mei had actually downplayed their terrifying power, barely scratching the surface of their true horror.
Outside the stone room was a vast plain, the grass seemingly composed of some unknown plants, though each divine race had the ability to reshape heaven and earth. But what truly sent chills down one’s spine was that this place had already become a battlefield, a war between the white representing justice and the black representing evil.
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