For countless years, the holy mountain had been the psychological pillar of the Attawa race, a totem representing everyone. An invasion of the holy mountain was an encroachment upon their bottom line.

It mattered little how many holy trees there were on the peak, nor was this related to Andruil and Rex. The Attawa were made to be this way; they would rather die than compromise.

Their civilization was primitive and lacking experience and insight—so much so that they had no idea there was another world outside of the inner world—but that didn’t stop them from building up a paradise in their hearts, a divine totem that they had to protect. The faith and conviction itself was more important than what they were protecting.

The Black-Winged Monarch simply adjusted to and took advantage of this process. He simply conformed to their nature instead of leading them in a different direction, obtaining their devotion in the process.

What Andruil did was attach the fate of the human race to this devotion.

Having realized this, Qianye knew that it was useless to convince the Attawa.

There was...