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"Fight—our—way—out!"
Luo Derun's hoarse roar exploded amid the boiling energy storm, and his withered body suddenly erupted with a tragic aura that seemed almost to burn.
"Ninth Soul Skill—Red Scythe World: Blood Miasma Devours Life!"
Boom—!
With him at the center, a crimson domain as deep as clotted filthy blood suddenly swelled outward.
The red domain was incomparably viscous, as if it had steeped the entire space in reeking blood plasma. Countless blurred blood shadows twisted, struggled, and silently wailed as they churned wildly within the realm.
Anything that touched the blood miasma—whether it was the phantom wind-eagle claws Cheng Wenge stabbed down with, the lingering lava flames from Ding Daoheng's massive rake as it smashed down, or even the Phantom Cherry petals drifting all across the sky—gave off an ear-piercing sizzling sound as they dissolved.
Soul Power was corroded madly, and spiritual perception was dragged down by the malicious pull of the sticky blood plasma.
Wherever the blood miasma passed, even Xia Ruxin's layered "Forest Burial Array" illusion, with its tangled roots, was forcibly corroded into a huge crimson hole that kept collapsing and writhing to fill itself back in.
There was no white left in Luo Derun's eyes, only two leaping, savage masses of crimson soul fire.
He did not even glance at Cheng Wenge and Ding Daoheng, who had been briefly forced back by the blood miasma. His figure turned into a dark-red, vicious streak that tore through the blood mist. While the huge bloody hole had not yet been fully repaired by the illusion, he charged desperately toward the direction the blood miasma had pierced through—the gap in the mountain pass to the south.
His vision suddenly opened up, and the light