The city had become a ruin riddled with sore wounds, and the cries of despair had already spread to every corner of the ancient city with the flames.
The battle between the withered old man and the middle-aged beautiful woman continued, their deranged laughter and the thunderous explosions of spellcraft constantly shaking the sky. Every residual wave of their spells brought disaster to a city block.
Watching the dazzling magic light in the sky, the eyes of Xu Yuan, glowing with strange blood light, gradually became empty until they were filled with the silence of death.
In the darkness that fell over his senses, the last thing he saw was the Black Death Mycelial Mat fluttering and falling through the air like silk.
Just like the unclear residual waves of spellcraft that killed him, until his consciousness dissipated, Xu Yuan could not see what had pierced his brain.
