"Great Qian, Xiao Yi!"
Dressed in black, Xiao Yi held the silver arrow in his hand and spoke without expression.
His gaze swept over the scene before him…
The ground was littered with bodies and blood; one could imagine just how tragic the battle had been.
The bodies of a hundred thousand soldiers were covered with numerous bloodstains.
Tens of thousands of refugees each wore a face of despair, as silent as death itself.
What should have been their sanctuary, Xingmen City, was now ablaze, cutting off their path of return.
Behind them were the cavalry of the Sword Dynasty, as well as the terrifying and ruthless army of God Devouring Ants.
Even without having witnessed the scene himself, Xiao Yi could imagine how desperate Liu Fuhai and the others must have felt. At the same time, a furious flame was burning within his heart, like a volcano long suppressed, ready to erupt at any moment.
Fury!
Extreme fury!
Uncontainable fury!
