He was one of the few who had survived the great war eight hundred years ago.
Although he never said it aloud or even admitted it to himself, he truly lived in the shadow of those past events. Perhaps even he didn't know how profound the psychological impact and trauma of that battle had been.
He frantically sired children. He did it to deceive himself, believing that as long as their numbers grew and the Thunder Sect rose again, they could restore their former glory. He thought that even if another great war broke out, they couldn't possibly be completely wiped out.
But now, after an experience that had nearly led to his demonic corruption, Ji Yan's heart had grown heavy.
The Demon Race was strong—unfathomably rampant and terrifying.
The Sanqing Immortal Sect had been so glorious back then, yet it was still shattered to pieces. So much so that even after eight hundred years, the memory still stirred a tremor of denial in his heart that he refused to acknowledge.