Fu Tianyuan's brain had almost ceased to think.
Retreat? Where could they possibly retreat to?
Subconsciously, he was hoping that the light screen emitted by the West King would mend the sky.
After all, the Kunlun lineage had served the West King for a thousand years; there was a karmic connection of incense burning. Fu Tianyuan still hoped that the deity of his own family would triumph.
But the young Emperor had lost all fighting spirit completely, sitting on the ground, howling like a ghost or wailing like a wolf. Suddenly, he had become an Emperor of a perished nation, destined to be recorded in history books and spat upon by later generations!
Of course, there was another possibility: there would be no so-called "history books." All of the Human Clan might be bred like pigs by the monstrous apparitions, gradually devolving into livestock meant to provide meat.
What a terrifying thought!
