A Prisoner?

Yet at this moment, the four Zombie Kings wore expressions dark enough to frighten.

They knew full well that this restoration of their strength had come at the price of the complete dissipation of an ocean of zombie undead.

It was not that they mourned the sacrificed members of their clan—zombies were cold by nature, and even among their own kind, warmth was rare.

What truly gnawed at them was that the zombie race's numbers had plummeted off a cliff. Their grand plan to swallow the Underworld would likely be delayed by a great deal, perhaps even left stranded halfway.

That was the thorn embedded deepest in their hearts, the pain they could not afford to ignore. Everything else was beneath mention.

"Heh heh... everyone, now that our strength has returned, it's time to properly 'thank' these Yama Kings—thanks to them, our race has suffered grievous losses!"

Jiang Chen's eyes burned crimson. His bloody maw flew open, exposing rows of black, sinister venomous fangs. Before his words had even faded, he lunged at two Yama Kings like a phantom!

This time, he was truly enraged.

He knew perfectly well that for at least several centuries, perhaps even longer, the Underworld would be beyond their reach—how could he possibly swallow this grievance?

The other three Zombie Kings also revealed their true forms, fangs gleaming and veins bulging as they poured out every drop of brutality and resentment accumulated over a thousand years.

The zombies' coveting of the Underworld had lasted for more than just thousands, or even tens of thousands, of years.

And now, even the foundation of their race had been shaken! If they did not get an explanation, they would never let this rest!

In an instant, the great battle erupted anew.

Six Yama Kings clashed head-on with four