So, Huang Xiaolong spent that night in deep sleep. He let Ji Zhengyu, Lin Zicong, and the slaves engage in a fierce battle in the square.
Early the next morning.
The slaves haven't stopped yet!
One by one, they were hysterical with their clothes torn and hair disheveled, their faces full of blood and evil energy. The chilling killing intent emanating from them was enough to make anyone's blood run cold. The killing intent of dozens of men combined into a tangible essence, rising towards the sky like swirling smoke, unstoppable by the wind.
"Little Long...they...they've been at it all night, and still, they don't seem to stop…" Ma Chuxia revealed a furrowed brow, standing beside Huang Xiaolong.
"Unless I order them to stop, they won't." Huang Xiaolong laughed. "See, just a night of battle has intensified their kill intent several times. It seems that only by fighting on the battlefield and going through the baptism of blood and fire can this 'Art of Killing Gods' be perfected…"
