The worst thing was, high above the mountain pass, the god of death Jiang Chen had yet to make his move.
That life reaping arrow, that presence from occupying an advantageous vantage point. When he had made his move, he had reaped the lives of true qi masters as if he was harvesting crops.
Under such heavy pressure, any true qi master with even a slightly lower level of training, or if anyone was hit by a Swordbird, would be immediately knocked to the ground, hauled away, and portioned out.
The flesh and blood of a true qi master was absolutely a rich meal for the Goldwing Swordbirds.
More than ten Goldwing Swordbirds would divvy up every true qi master that fell. Those who didn’t get a portion would become even more ferocious. The desire to feed made them even more violent and ruthless.
More and more true qi masters couldn’t hold up beneath the onslaught.
