The broken wind that had stilled from the anxious silence of the hundred thousand heart struggling to remain strong, the tense expression of the killing machines that had been suppressing the battlefield at the cost of many lives from their side, everything painted a different picture under the sickening sounds of bodies being broken and lives being one-sidedly harvested.
The previously cold Macans were failing to keep their unflappable attitude faced with true strength, true suppression of life level. The legends of old were becoming the truth of the new era, with one person suppressing everything.
Mountain didn't shout, he didn't rage, he only kept being brutally cold, and the Macans could only keep being brutally massacred, even as they refused to retreat.
The war between two sides turned into an ocean of whitish-skinned beings trying to drown one person.
