The battlefield reeked of death. A heavy crimson mist lingered in the air. The desolate road was filled with corpses — charred, mutilated, drained of life. The once mighty cultivators of the Eight Great Families had been reduced to nothing more than shriveled husks, their bodies twisted in horror, their lifeblood drained away as their final moments had been spent screaming in agony.
Some had been cleaved in half by crimson slashes — sword strikes imbued with Divine-Tier Yang energy, burning their very souls as their blood evaporated before it could even touch the ground, leaving their shriveled bodies consumed by a mist of red. Others had been whipped to death, their defensive barriers and artifacts shattered by Celestial Chains, their bodies left exuding pure celestial energy as they disintegrated into light.
