Sizzle—between heaven and earth, only the streaks of light transformed from Samlet and Ye Rong could be seen.
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle—their swords were like saws cutting iron, carving through layer after layer of laws within the God of Light's palm.
Puff, puff, puff—the first to fail were Ye Rong and the tens of thousands of soldiers behind him.
In terms of sheer power, the Military Formation formed by these tens of thousands of elites among elites, together with Ye Rong, the commander-in-chief whose strength was nearing the pinnacle, was already capable of contending with Gods and Devils.
But in the end, that was merely a contest of pure strength.
Their own endurance also had to be taken into account. Otherwise, even if they could contend with him, they would still end up like Ye Rong and the others now—unable to withstand the backlash generated by such an intense clash, all of them injured and vomiting blood.
Ye Rong's gaze was resolute. Then he looked at Samlet, who was fighting beside him, and said:
"Hall Master, I'll take my leave first."
Having said that, Ye Rong pressed a finger to his brow. The next instant, he drew a tiny sword out from between his eyebrows.
"Sacrifice to the Dao."
The instant Ye Rong's voice fell, the tiny sword in his hand burst into fierce flames.
He then held this blazing sword of spiritual will and slashed it toward the God of Light.
Swish, swish, swish—in an instant, there were thousands upon thousands of sword strikes, countless sword strikes. The entire world held only swords, only these swords that could cleave everything apart.
Like a storm, the swords charged toward the God of Light beneath Ye Rong's will.
At this moment, the God of Light finally revealed a look of panic. Watching