Blood, flames, ruined walls, and the pervasive stench of blood that one could not easily dispel filled the air, along with the screams and wails of civilians.
Clad in iron armor, they moved swiftly and silently like specters. Swords gleamed chillingly in the dark, sending shivers down one's spine. Suddenly, a piercing horn sounded through the night, followed immediately by a volley of arrows descending like shooting stars upon the crowd.
In an instant, flames erupted, and cries of agony and wailing rose and fell in waves, plunging the entire city into chaos.
The elder who had just been in front of Yang Yi was decapitated, his eyes wide open even in death.
Just moments ago the elder had been lamenting how life seemed to be looking up, only to find himself thrust into the Eighteen Levels of Hell, never to be reincarnated, his dreams of a good life shattered in an instant.
