Three liches floated in midair, coldly watching the gray mist in the distance.
Wind howled through the valley, lifting the edges of the tattered bandages wrapped around them.
The air was thick with the scent of wounds—blood, scorching heat, and decay mingling together in a chilling stench.
Lanlost held a silver spear, his gaze piercing through the distance as though lost in thought.
His expression barely changed, but the suppressed killing intent around him made it clear that his heart was anything but calm.
Adelaide was different. His breathing was rapid, and cold sweat continuously ran down his temples.
Although the wound left by the loss of his left arm had temporarily healed, the lingering emptiness and pain still reminded him that he had nearly died beneath the Chaos Flying Blade.
I've already died once.
Adelaide trembled inwardly.
He knew very well that if he had not reacted in time, his corpse would already have gone cold.
At that moment, he had even felt Ang's icy gaze settle upon him.
Now, he no longer dared to fantasize about honor or victory. Only one thought remained in his mind: survive.
He glanced at Prince Ak not far away.
The flesh of Prince Ak's lower body was a mangled mess. Though he desperately swallowed potions and used scrolls, he still could not stop the Chaos Power lingering in his wounds from corroding his flesh.
Prince Ak's face was pale as paper, veins bulging across his forehead. His hands trembled, and his eyes were filled with madness and unwillingness.
A ruthless thought immediately arose in Adelaide's heart.
He knew that if this continued, once Ang closed in again, they would all die.
After a moment of silence, he said quietly, "Let's go."
Prince Ak froze, his pupils suddenly contracting.
He stared at Adelaide