Refuse to trample on the pride of heaven

Although Lu Wensheng had previously vindicated "demonic cultivators" and distinguished them from "evil cultivators" who had no bottom line and indiscriminately killed innocent people, the long-standing prejudices and barriers could not be completely eliminated overnight.

Many disciples of the immortal sects still harbor a degree of scrutiny and estrangement towards these fellow practitioners who walk in the shadows.

However, witnessing these demonic cultivators not only stepping forward in this time of crisis, but also using all their means to ruthlessly attack their common enemy in their unique, perhaps not so "honorable" way... the shock and emotion were indescribable.

A subtle sense of identity and closeness, based on the shared struggle against the enemy, began to quietly grow and spread on the battlefield.

It is unknown which spiritual disciple was defending against the attack of the demons on the flank when he was almost ambushed by a hidden shadow demon. At the critical moment, a jet-black demonic chain arrived first, accurately wrapping around the shadow demon's neck, and violently pulling it away and tearing it apart.

The one who made the move was a cold-faced demonic cultivator.

The disciple was stunned for a moment, then clasped his hands in a fist and said solemnly, "Thank you, fellow Daoist!"

The demonic cultivator simply nodded slightly and replied in a hoarse voice, "Watch your back." Then he threw himself back into the battle.

In another place, the sword formation formed by several disciples of the immortal sect was about to collapse under the impact of several powerful demons. Upon seeing this, an old demon cultivator flicked his sleeve and scattered a handful of foul-smelling black powder. The powder, upon touching the powerful demons, immediately emitted a hissing corrosive sound and produced thick yellow smoke. The powerful demons roared in pain and their movements slowed down, giving the sword formation a chance to catch its breath and reorganize.

The disciples looked at the old demon with less fear and more gratitude.

The same is true high in the sky.

Several powerful demonic cultivators took the initiative to approach the sect leader and elders of the immortal sect.

"Sect Master Shen, how about handing over that Flame Demon on the left to me? I happen to be missing a core fire seed for refining treasures." A demonic cultivator shrouded in flames transmitted his voice to Shen Wenxin, the Sect Master of Lingxiao Sect. Although his tone still carried the eccentricity unique to demonic cultivators, there was no malice in it.

Shen Wenxin forced the demon lord before him back with a single sword strike, then laughed loudly: "Why not? Fellow Daoist, be careful of its natal demonic flames!"

On the other side, the Valley Master of Misty Valley was trapping the Shadow Demon with the light of the rainbow when a powerful demonic cultivator skilled in manipulating shadows silently appeared beside her and said in a sinister tone, "Valley Master, this Shadow Demon is slippery. How about I trap it with my 'Shadow Prison'?"

The Valley Master of Misty Valley glanced at her beautiful eyes and nodded slightly: "Thank you for your trouble, fellow Daoist."

Similar coordinated attacks were constantly being staged across the battlefield.

Spiritual cultivators and demonic cultivators, two groups that were once clearly distinct and even occasionally clashed, have now entrusted their backs to each other for the same goal.

Their techniques may differ, their philosophies may differ, and the spiritual light they unleash—one clear and bright, the other dark and gloomy—intertwines to create a strange yet harmonious picture.

They lived together in this vast world of cultivation, absorbing the same spiritual energy of heaven and earth, sharing similar faces, using the same language, inheriting their respective understandings and pursuits of the "Dao," possessing similar physical bodies, flowing with similar blood, using the same language and script, and carrying shared historical memories...

When faced with a common external enemy capable of destroying everything, those internal differences and divisions seem so insignificant.

A deeper understanding became clear in the hearts of all participants—regardless of whether they were practicing pure cultivation or impure cultivation, whether they followed the path of immortality or the path of demons, at this moment, they were all children of this world, all comrades fighting side by side.

Stripped of their guises of cultivation and power, they are all human.

They are compatriots connected by blood.

This sense of belonging, forged in blood and fire, silently dismantles the barriers of the past.

Although no one said it aloud, the tacit understanding and protection when fighting side by side, the unwavering assistance in times of crisis, and the trust and determination revealed in their eyes during their brief encounters were more powerful than a thousand words.

The barriers, like ice and snow under the sun, quietly melt away.

------

The sudden arrival of the demonic cultivator army caused a stir in the battle.

The surging, dark clouds, carrying countless fierce and malevolent spirits, were like a poisoned blade, ruthlessly cutting into the heart of the demonic tide.

The wind howled and ghostly cries pierced the soul. The various strange and mysterious techniques used by the demonic cultivators, though not as brilliant and righteous as the immortal Taoist arts, were surprisingly effective in their insidious and cunning ways. They targeted the weaknesses of demons and eroded their demonic essence, catching several arrogant demon lords off guard. Their formations gradually crumbled, and they were on the verge of defeat.

High in the sky, Min Xiao was locked in a fierce battle with Daoist Jun Ning. Their sword light and demonic energy intertwined and exploded. Suddenly, he heard a strange movement coming from the battle line below. He swept his divine sense over the scene and his brows furrowed deeply.

Before he could figure out what was wrong with these demonic cultivators, he heard a demonic general beside him exclaim in surprise:

"My lord! These humans, how come... there are more and more of them the more we fight them?" The demon general scratched his huge head covered with scales. His limited intelligence could not comprehend the scene before him. He only felt that the figures resisting him were not decreasing, but were multiplying infinitely like lines and surfaces, constantly emerging from all directions.

"Hmm?" Min Xiao snorted coldly, his demonic eyes flashing with a ghostly light, following the astonished gazes of the several demon lords as they looked towards the distant mountains and the horizon.

Upon seeing this, even someone as shrewd as him couldn't help but feel a chill.

On the mountain peaks near and far, amidst the clouds, countless figures appeared out of nowhere! Sword light, escape light, and the brilliance of magical treasures merged into one, though not as menacing as the demonic cultivators, nor as disciplined as the disciples of major sects, yet it possessed its own powerful and continuous momentum, like hundreds of rivers flowing into the sea, converging on the main battlefield from all directions!

Upon closer inspection of their clothing and aura, it was clear that they were the cultivators who had previously found various excuses to flee the battlefield in a panic!

Now, they have returned. Although most of them still have some lingering fear and look disheveled from their journey, their eyes are completely different from when they fled.

Within that, there was shame, there was resolve, and even more so, there was a burning, almost desperate courage.

Like streams flowing into a river, they silently and swiftly merged into the defensive lines below, which were still struggling to hold on.

When familiar faces meet by chance, their eyes inevitably wander and dart away, carrying an undisguised shyness, like children caught red-handed doing something wrong.

However, this awkwardness lasted only a moment before it was replaced by a stronger emotion—a sense of "since I'm here, I might as well make the best of it," even with a touch of "prodigal son returning home" self-righteousness.

"Huh? Fellow Daoist Li, you...didn't you say your grandfather was in labor and you needed to return home immediately to take care of him? You didn't even bother to come up with an excuse, so why have you come back?"

A cultivator with an injured arm, struggling to maintain a small defensive formation, looked at his old acquaintance who had squeezed next to him, his face slightly flushed, and couldn't help but ask, his tone tinged with surprise and barely perceptible joy, his eyes welling up with tears.

The man called Fellow Daoist Li showed a hint of embarrassment on his face, then straightened his neck and raised his voice unconsciously, as if trying to convince others, and even more so himself.

"Cough cough... Well, the baby has already been born! Once everything is settled, it's natural that I'll come back! But Brother Wang, weren't you saying that the fire in the cave was still burning and you were afraid it would burn the spirit field, so you rushed back to put it out? Well, you put out the fire... quite quickly, didn't you?"

Upon hearing this, Brother Wang, who had been singled out, blushed but was not to be outdone. He brandished a copper hammer emitting black smoke and replied in a gruff voice, "Hey! My Samadhi True Fire can be controlled at will, extinguished at will! How can it be compared to ordinary fire? After finishing the household chores, why wouldn't I come back? Do you really expect me to leave you here to fight the demons alone?"

The monk laughed heartily as he watched them expose each other's secrets.

After a few somewhat weak explanations, their eyes met again. The lingering awkwardness melted away when they saw a similar determination in each other's eyes, turning into a tacit, bittersweet smile.

Without another word, the next moment, sword energy surged forth, fiercely slashing at the surging demons! —Since they had chosen to turn back, they would use their weapons to wash away their previous cowardice!

Among these cultivators who returned, there were many whose cultivation was not top-notch, and who were usually considered to be in the middle or even lower ranks within their sects.

Knowing that charging into battle and fighting against the Demon Lord and Demon Generals was not their forte, they wisely focused their power on more crucial areas.

Several figures swiftly moved to the outer perimeter of the demon-sealing array, where the light flickered and the air hummed.

Their arrival may not be able to immediately turn the tide, but it is like injecting new blood into a body that is on the verge of exhaustion.

Those array cultivators who were previously struggling due to a lack of manpower suddenly felt a relief from the pressure.

The initial surprise and doubt gradually turned into gratitude and recognition, and their cooperation quickly became more tacit under the pressure of the life-or-death crisis.

Did these cultivators who chose to return have no fear in their hearts? Not at all.

The Demon Lord's destructive power, the sky-covering demonic clouds, the boundless, roaring demonic creatures... each one was enough to shatter one's courage.

Fear is an instinct imprinted in the deepest part of the soul of living beings. They are not saints who have transcended the mundane world, so how can they be completely without fear?

However, this is precisely where the complexity of the human heart lies.

When they looked back at the scorched earth where blood had been shed in a relatively "safe" distance, and witnessed those chosen ones, hailed as the future of their sects and the hope of humanity, so resolutely and without hesitation leap into the abyss of demons, a place said to be the place where all things return to stillness, for a perhaps vague possibility... the shock and emotion that came from the depths of their souls struck their hearts like a resounding bell.

They would also ask themselves: those young people, whose lives should have been like the rising sun, shining brightly and with a future full of infinite possibilities, were willing to die for the land behind them, for those ordinary people who might not even know them, and for that wisp of smoke they might never see.

What do we cultivators seek after years of practice?

Immortality and carefree living? Certainly.

But if the land beneath your feet is shattered, your sect is destroyed, and all your comrades perish, what difference is there between you and a lonely ghost, or a walking corpse, if you survive alone in this world and even attain immortality?

A mixture of shame, admiration, and a long-dormant passion surged and churned within them. The brilliant spark that leaped into the abyss not only plunged into the demonic abyss but also into the still lake of their hearts, igniting the flames of "responsibility" and "courage."

So they came back.

With lingering fear, but also with awakened courage, and a deep, unspoken attachment to his comrades, his sect, and this world.

At this moment, looking across the entire battlefield, whether it was the sect leaders and elders high above the clouds, or the elite disciples who formed the backbone of the sect; whether it was the cunning and treacherous demonic cultivators, or the ordinary cultivators who returned with remorse; even those low-ranking disciples who were originally only responsible for logistics and treating the wounded, all of them had now taken up arms and were filling every gap in the defense line...

The line between good and evil is blurred at this moment, and the distinction between noble and lowly origins from sects disappears.

Everyone, regardless of whether their cultivation methods are pure or impure, regardless of whether their origins are obvious or subtle, all share the same goal—to defend the land beneath their feet, protect their homes behind them, and completely defeat the rampant demonic tide!

At this critical juncture of life and death, the cultivation world is united in purpose and will, regardless of status or origin, and has become an unbreakable rope!

Fear remains the sword hanging overhead, but courage has transformed into the backbone that supports their upright posture, and into countless sharp edges that slash at the demons.

Fear is a biological instinct; courage is the hymn of humanity.