Wang Ming stood in the void, standing atop vast chains of mountains beneath his feet, wielding a halberd-blade in one hand as he fought ten demon kings alone.
Light rain steamed around their bodies, and energy matter boiled.
The Bull Demon King, the Peng Demon King, the Nine-Headed Insect, and other great demons had already fought to the point of madness by this moment, scarlet light releasing from their eyes to give off a fierce and terrifying feeling.
Yet Wang Ming's state in battle against them was completely the opposite.
Wang Ming's expression was expressionless, his gaze revealing absolute calm, akin to a pitch-black, deep, and silent abyss.
Hot-blooded!
Wang Ming rarely experienced this feeling.
Because Wang Ming rarely took the initiative to fight battles without certainty; if he truly had to fight an uncertain battle, it was a desperate struggle.
When fighting for one's life, where was there any room for hot-blooded passion.
Wang Ming did not fear battle, but he had never liked it either; he simply could not understand the kind of joy battle-maniacs like Demon Lord Chonglou felt, nor did he wish to understand it.
Though he was currently besieged by ten demon kings, not a shred of fear, panic, or dread stirred in his heart.
Instead, the more he fought, the calmer his heart became, while the force of the halberd blade in his hand grew increasingly heavy, driving the ten demon kings back step by step.
Wang Ming's exterior was surrounded by the dense Yin Yang of Life and Death, continuously converting the demon power of the ten demon kings for his own use.
The ten demon kings believed a war of attrition could wear Wang Ming down to death, but the result was that Wang Ming might just wear all four of them