Meng Anwen and Bai Yiyuan were both surprised by Lin Moyu’s decisiveness, realizing they could no longer quite understand him.

Lin Moyu offered no explanation.

From Antares, he had already learned enough about the greater world’s cruelty.

In wars between races, prisoners were rare. The outcome was always simple: either you die, or I do.

True victory meant total annihilation, leaving nothing behind, not even insects.

Since Lin Moyu offered no explanation, the others didn’t press him.

Meng Anwen simply stated they would follow his lead. After all, Lin Moyu had built the bridge; they couldn’t cross it only to destroy it afterward.

Lin Moyu spoke in a low voice, “Teachers, it’s not that I am bloodthirsty. But believe me, they cannot be allowed to remain.”

Meng Anwen and Bai Yiyuan exchanged glances, realizing they had no choice but to take his words seriously.

The three continued talking. Lin Moyu asked about recent events in the Human World, and the answer was that it was more peaceful than before.

Since the Dragonkind-Demon allied forces attacked, the Human World’s structure had shifted dramatically.

Over a hundred factions of varying sizes once existed, but most were crushed or dissolved during the war.

The Sakura Kingdom, nearest to the Shenxia Empire, had been completely wiped out.

In a final desperate move, it had tried to drag the Shenxia Empire down with them, only to be thwarted by Lin Moyu and Meng Anwen.

Many smaller factions met similar fates. Even those that survived eventually disbanded, realizing that only unity could ensure survival. Under mounting pressure, they gravitated toward stronger powers.

Many sought refuge in the Shenxia Empire but were refused.

Those who are not our kind must have different hearts and minds—this belief extended beyond other races to other human factions.

Those who differed greatly in appearance or worldview—blonde hair, blue eyes, unfamiliar customs—were not easily accepted by the Shenxians.

Bloodline heritage was an insurmountable boundary, deeply ingrained in the Shenxians’ identity.

To the Shenxians, there were only two kinds of humans: black-haired, black-eyed Shenxians and everyone else.

The Shenxia Empire’s uninterrupted civilization, spanning a thousand years, further set it apart.

Other factions, with fragmented histories, sometimes fabricated claims of similar heritage, only to be exposed as frauds and ridiculed.

Still, many refused to accept the truth.

Lin Moyu himself didn’t dwell on it. He was Shenxian. While his actions seemed to serve humanity, they were, at heart, for Shenxia.

As for outsiders, he remained indifferent.

The bloodline ideology influenced him as well.

The Shenxia Empire recognized only those of its lineage.

Even children born from unions between Shenxians and outsiders were not accepted—a rare but real occurrence. Such people ultimately had no choice but to leave Shenxia.

It might seem narrow-minded, but to Shenxia, it reflected confidence and pride.

Now, with Lin Moyu elevated to a divine status across the world, no faction dared openly challenge Shenxia’s stance.

With his power alone, he had suppressed both the Dragonkind and the Abyss Demons.

A single man capable of contending with the Dragon Emperor and the Demon Emperor, who would dare oppose him?

There was also news of Ning Yiyi. She had been training tirelessly, doing dungeon grinding to level up.

Recently, Ning Tairan reported she was nearing level 60. She was currently partied with Mo Yun, Shu Han, and Mu Xianxian, among others.

With Mu Xianxian’s support, their dungeon runs were highly profitable, earning them growing recognition.

Hearing this, Lin Moyu felt relieved.

As long as she was safe, nothing else mattered. Besides, with Ning Tairan watching over her, what could possibly go wrong?

There was more good news. Ning Tairan had recently advanced to level 96. Feng Xiu and Mo Xinghai had also reached Level 96, while Ye Hao was close behind and likely to break through within days.

The human race was steadily growing stronger. Lin Moyu could feel it clearly.

It was a welcome development.

Before the apocalyptic war, humanity hadn’t been weak. There had been Transcendent Gods and half-step Transcendent Gods among them.

If the invaders back then had been limited to the Abyss Demons and the Dragonkind, they would have been wiped out in minutes.

Now, humanity was once again on the path to prosperity.

With the activation of the Soul Fusion Grand Formation, the Shenxia Empire’s long years of accumulation had erupted all at once.

High-tier God-level individuals were emerging one after another.

At this rate, the rise of half-step Transcendent Gods was no longer a distant dream. Several might even appear in quick succession.

Lin Moyu slept deeply in the White God Courtyard. His soul force overflowed, spreading outward as if resonating with the heavens and earth.

In his sleep, he felt as though he were merging with the world itself.

He slept for a full day and night, twenty-four hours in total.

It had been a long time since he had rested so completely.

When he awoke, Bai Yiyuan and Meng Anwen were already gone.

Lin Moyu knew why. Mobilizing the military and opening a path to the Dragonkind World were no simple tasks.

Bai Yiyuan was occupied, and so was Meng Anwen.

Meng Anwen needed to construct a grand formation using the Shenxia Tower’s extraordinary formation capabilities to open a spatial channel.

In the White God Courtyard, Lin Moyu drank two cups of tea before activating Antares’s scale.

Antares lowered his head, peering at him through narrowed eyes, “Rested enough?”

Lin Moyu smiled faintly, “Yes. Time to get reckless again. This time, I’ll let you kill to your heart’s content.”

“Bring it on! And make sure you’re as reckless as possible!” Antares slowly perked up, letting out strange laughs.

Lin Moyu had advanced from level 83 to level 86.

Over those three levels, he hadn’t moved a single skill. Now, his soul force was overflowing.

Even after maintaining his soul world, a vast surplus remained.

He could feel he could move far more than just six skill star cores.

His will surged into the skill space, carrying immense soul force.

Without hesitation, he seized the nearest skill star core and began dragging it outward.

The skill space resisted instinctively, its binding force pushing back, but it was futile. Lin Moyu was far too prepared. Against him, the resistance felt weak, almost powerless.

“Easy… too easy.”

He had never moved a skill star core with such ease. It felt as if a mere gesture was enough to command it.

Within an hour, the skill star core was forcibly pulled from its origin and dragged into a strange new world.

As his soul force surged, power flooded into the skill star core. In just two minutes, it was completely filled.

There was no need for repeated activations of Comprehensive Rebirth like before. It was done in a single attempt.

Antares blinked, “What are you doing?”

He felt like he’d just been sidelined—ready for action, only to watch it end instantly.

Lin Moyu looked slightly embarrassed, “My soul force might be a bit too strong. I didn’t control it well… it filled up all at once.”