The messenger soldier quickly completed his task.
When he arrived hurriedly with an army of five hundred thousand, the scene before him struck terror into the hearts of everyone, sending chills down their spines.
Blood flowed like rivers, corpses lay everywhere.
The sight was too horrific to behold.
Amid the scattered limbs, only General Gangmu was drenched in blood, kneeling on one knee, supporting his massive body with a single fist, resembling a towering tree that had fallen.
The pair of hammers lay casually beside him, too weak to pick them up.
Panting heavily, sweating profusely.
Not far from the city gate, stood a person composed and at ease.
Lin Fan.
Like the arrival of a Death God, he was silent.
Calmly.
Quietly.
Indifferently.
Watching those about to be led by him back to Hell.
Anyone who met his gaze instantly felt as though they were inside a ten-thousand-year-old ice cave, chilled to the bone.
Cold.
An endless, boundless cold.
