Above countless broken corpses, three figures behaved strangely. They kept fleeing, leaping through the forest and darting through the air, occasionally looking back before breathing sighs of relief.
Yet no matter how they ran, they were always circling the battlefield, completely unaware of anything unusual.
Snap!
Zhao Xuan snapped his fingers. The sound carried far through the silent scene, and the three figures immediately slowed. Perhaps due to inertia, they continued rushing forward, but soon gradually came to a halt, staring blankly at their surroundings.
Corpses littered the ground, permeated by a peculiar burnt smell that made one nauseous.
Their pupils suddenly contracted. Bishop Mo and the other two began breathing rapidly, then all turned their gazes toward Zhao Xuan in the sky.
The somewhat effeminate Bishop Mo asked palely, "An illusion?"
"No, an illusion realm."
Zhao Xuan answered from midair. He did not descend, for the two girls were still beside him. Although Xue Qingqing looked strong at the moment, once she landed and saw those horribly mangled corpses, she would surely vomit everywhere.
"An illusion realm?"
Bishop Mo murmured, then revealed a bitter smile. Looking at the corpses around him, his heart stirred with the sorrow of seeing his own kind perish.
Everything they had just done had been futile.
Bitterness filled their hearts as they looked around. They could barely bear to look, feeling that their own fates would be no different from these people's.
They felt as if they had returned to that night more than half a year ago, at the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. Corpses had covered the ground then as well, and countless vibrant lives had perished before their eyes.
Bishop Mo, Bishop Sang, and Bishop Mo each stood in a different direction. The despondent survivors stood amid the corpse-strewn earth. After