Let you simulate life, but you change fate every time?! Chapter 1175 - 612: The Thousand-Eyed Demon Emperor, No Match at All!

Wuyou City.

Miles and miles away from here.

A seemingly endless horde of the Dark Alien Race advanced like a destructive flood, rapidly surging towards Wuyou City.

The path of this deluge transformed all it touched into mere dust.

Even the smallest creatures—snakes, rats, insects, and ants—that sought refuge deep within the earth were silently dissolved into the encroaching black mist, becoming one with the encroaching darkness.

Not too far from this advancing alien force, the skeletal remains of a desolate city lay scattered.

Sensing the violent tremors shaking the very ground, a group of a few dozen survivors cautiously emerged from the ruins, peeking their heads out from various hidden nooks.

Their faces were gaunt, their bodies mere outlines beneath ragged, worn-out combat uniforms, making them look like a band of wretched refugees.

Yet, a subtle flow of Spiritual Power emanated from each of them, a clear sign that they were Simulators. Without this, their long survival amidst the ruins would have been impossible.

However, upon beholding the boundless, dark flood, their exhausted eyes could only reflect profound terror and utter despair.

"Could that possibly be... the Dark Alien Race?"

"The Southern Domain fell long ago, so why are they returning to this place now?"

"Curse the Great Yan Royal Family! Had they not commanded the abandonment of our border defenses, leaving the Southern Domain to fend for itself, how could we possibly have ended up in this dire predicament?"

"If I'm to die, then I'll die. What is there to fear? I've had my fill of this half-living existence; ending it all might as well be a mercy."

The surviving Simulators let out hollow, bitter laughs, all vestiges of hope completely extinguished.

After all, this was an entire army of the Dark Alien Race!

In stark contrast, they were merely a few dozen individuals, each at their absolute limit.

What means did they possess to possibly resist such an overwhelming alien force?

"Captain, what are we to do now?"

Some, unwilling to simply await their demise, immediately turned their pleading gazes toward a man missing an arm.

This man, though pale and gaunt, clad in a tattered uniform, maintained an impressive, upright posture, akin to a steadfast pine.

Furthermore, his aura was the most potent among everyone present; his blood energy pulsed like a raging furnace, capable of pushing back the surrounding black mist. He was, without a doubt, a Fiery Sun Level Overlord!

However, his right arm was entirely gone, the wound ghastly and horrifying, as if it had been violently ripped away by some monstrous biological entity, a truly shocking sight.

The one-armed man gazed up at the distant, dark deluge and could only heave a sigh of resignation.

"It's no use. This alien army is far too formidable; there are numerous King Level dark creatures within its ranks. Unless an Ancient Emperor personally intervenes, even a King-Sealing Giant would be utterly ineffective."

Upon hearing his words, everyone's lips quivered slightly. Some opened their mouths to speak, but ultimately fell into a heavy silence.

As a Sun Tyrant, the one-armed man possessed a far greater depth of perception and experience than anyone else present.

If even he acknowledged the futility of resistance.

It meant they were truly devoid of any hope for survival!

"Waaah, I only became a Simulator not too long ago. I don't want to die yet!"

"We managed to survive the border battles back then, how can we possibly perish here?"

"It's all the fault of the Great Yan Royal Family, those wretched scoundrels. They promised reinforcements and supplies, yet we haven't received so much as a single scrap. Even in death, I will never forgive them!"

"A bunch of cowardly dogs, hiding safely behind the Imperial City walls while forcing us to fight and die for their own gain."

"I must have been utterly blind to have joined the City Guard Army back in those days!"

Many of the Simulators, filled with righteous anger, ground their teeth and unleashed a torrent of curses.

Having fled from various fallen cities, they harbored a deep, festering hatred for the Great Yan Royal Family.

Now, on the precipice of their final moments, they hurled curses at the very ancestors of the Great Yan Royal Family without restraint.

Meanwhile, the one-armed man, listening to the litany of curses, remained stoic. He leaned against a crumbling wall, retrieved a cigarette from his chest, and placed it between his lips.

Then, with a mere thought, a tiny flame flickered into existence on the index finger of his left hand, igniting the cigarette.

"Captain, you still have some of that good stuff on you! Save a bit for me too, won't you?"

"Yeah, if I could just have one last puff before I go, it would be a death without any regrets."

Witnessing this, the others' spirits lifted momentarily. They eagerly gathered around, drawing in deeply, lost in the haze of rising smoke as if indulging in a luxurious feast.

"Look at all of you, acting so pathetic. It's the last one, everyone gets a share."

The one-armed man chided them with a faint smile, taking a deep drag himself before passing the cigarette along to the others.

Each person took a turn, eyes closed, savoring the lingering taste as if it were a delicacy, reluctant to exhale the precious smoke.

Once the cigarette had been completely consumed.

The one-armed man slowly straightened his figure and began to stride forward, directly towards the rapidly approaching dark deluge.

Observing his thin and emaciated silhouette.

Those who had been venting their frustrations gradually fell silent, eventually following the one-armed man without a spoken word.

They embraced a resolve of no return, marching bravely towards their deaths!

The dark deluge surged onward, appearing capable of consuming all that lay in its path.

And the figures of the one-armed man and the dozens of Simulators were rendered utterly insignificant, like mere ants, before the overwhelming power of the dark flood.

They seemed as insignificant as a speck of dust swept up in a colossal tidal wave, a solitary droplet within an ocean that could easily obliterate them.

Still, the encroaching darkness advanced relentlessly, showing no sign of halting, completely disregarding these mere dozens of insignificant beings.

"Completely ignored, it seems."

The man with only one arm observed the rapidly approaching dark flood, a wry grin gracing his lips.

The most profound despair doesn't arise from the insurmountable chasm in power separating us from our foe.

Instead, it's the crushing realization that, after risking everything to confront them, they dismiss our very presence as if we were mere air!