Xuanyuan's angry voice resounded through the starry sky like a grand bell, echoing for a long time.
Those mortals ahead were unable to withstand the waves of sound, all turning into blood mist scattered between heaven and earth.
The human cultivators hesitated for only a moment, but thinking of their innocently slain brothers, their eyes flashed with bloodthirst.
Someone let out a loud roar, picked up their weapon, and charged at the scattered mortals on the continent.
Others were equally incited, following closely behind, beginning a ruthless slaughter.
Despite Yang Yan's vow to annihilate the last hope of the Mo Lin tribe, when he truly looked at the innocent Mo Lin tribe mortals on the continent, he ultimately could not remain calm and sighed softly.
Of course, reluctance aside, his rationality still told him he must harden his heart to eliminate future threats.
