One person is solemn and deep.
Another person has madness in their eyes.
Neither side spoke, the air seemed to become viscous at this moment, even the sound of heartbeats became deafening.
Like a ritual of destiny,
Marquis Wucheng slowly raised his arm, and the sword in his hand pointed far at the figure standing in the distance.
Yuan Hao then covered his face with the Covered Armor Iron Mask, the cold blade still stained with fresh blood as he silently wiped off the crimson.
At this distance, the military formations clashed with no strategies left, only the most primitive collision between flesh and blades; only the purest slaughter of faith and loyalty remained.
Upon the earth,
Black waves of death and white torrents of despair, with earth-shaking rumbles, quickly moved towards each other, getting closer, and closer…
Until a certain moment,
The world seemed to suddenly freeze, all sounds, all light and shadows, all life were drawn away in an instant.
