After the savage slaughter, the vast fortress had been changed beyond recognition.
Broken walls and shattered ruins lay everywhere. Blood stained the ground, and the corpses of Demon Cult Martial Artists littered the area.
The air was thick with the stench of blood, dust, and lingering demonic qi, mingling into a nauseating reek.
Only a scant handful of Demon Cult Followers remained alive within the fortress.
Most of the Demon Cult Martial Artists had either been slain outright by Yang Jing's ruthless attacks during his earlier sweep through the fortress, their corpses left scattered across alleys and courtyards.
Or they had been caught in the violent aftershocks of the fierce battle between the two true qi realm experts, Yang Jing and Shangguan Yun. The powerful shock waves of true qi had shattered their organs, killing them on the spot and turning them into casualties of the duel.
Aside from those, there had been a very few followers like Recluse Zhu, quick-witted, swift to react, and still possessed of their strength.
Before the outcome became clear, they had fled in blind desperation, escaping the fortress by sheer luck and salvaging their lives. Yet such fortunate souls were as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.
Almost every remaining Demon Cult Remnant had suffered grievous injuries. Some had ruptured meridians, others damaged organs, and still others severed hands or feet. They lay groaning in agony, unable to move.
Never mind seizing a chance to escape-even shifting their bodies was painfully difficult. They could only lie where they were and wait for death, sunk in utter despair.
Black Dragon Hermit was one of those survivors, and among the more seriously injured.
Earlier, he had assembled the nine Qi-Devouring Realm Battle Generals under his command and deployed a grand formation to surround and kill