The damaged streets, the blood-red sunset, the city ruins billowing with black smoke as they burn.
Looking at the torn-apart corpses in front of him and hearing the terrified screams all around, Wang Xindong's expression grew subtly more troubled.
He was clad in a simple grey cloth jacket, his robust arms exposed under the bloody sunset, complex scars scattered across the skin evident on his shoulders. A cold wind mixed with the smell of blood blew gently past, lifting his grizzled hair.
He squinted his eyes and took a step forward.
On the wide street, a few Disciples of the Demon Suppression Bureau dressed in white quickly made way as if they had seen their savior, moving to both sides of the road.
Bang!
The ground shook violently.
A burly, pitch-black demon with a mane flaring up appeared at the corner.
