". . . Is this my dead end?"
"My strength is exhausted. The life I had stored up has all been killed off. I can't even remember how many times we've died."
"They're insane. They're actually using their one and only lives to trade injuries and lives with someone like me, someone who has revived."
Three voices echoed back and forth across the desperate battlefield.
Every time he turned into a mist of blood, every time he tried to break out of the encirclement, that man stood in his way.
That dying man whose flesh was exposed all over his body, like a living skeleton.
Wielding the Demon Sword that drew upon his life, he stubbornly stood before him every single time.
"Die, die! Why haven't you fallen yet?!" Zhao Yan unleashed another wave of Blood Rain, but this time, he still gained nothing.
Anger? Hatred? Even Da Mu himself did not know why he could make it this far.
Those bone-like arms simply kept swinging the sword on instinct.
The Demon Sword and its wielder constantly summoned fresh torrents of blood, forcibly making Zhao Yan clash and expend himself against them. Then they gathered the remaining blood back into the sword.
The two sides were constantly clashing, competing for control over blood—and the one at a disadvantage was actually Zhao Yan!
Blood repeatedly solidified, shattered, collapsed, and evaporated. In terms of blood control, the "vengeful spirit within the sword" possessed skills and tactical proficiency that clearly surpassed Zhao Yan's!
"Enough! Why won't you fall?!"
This time, Zhao Yan's violent outburst still had no effect.
That skeletal figure, pierced through by countless Blood Arrows, still stood before Zhao Yan and silently swung his sword again.
This time, Zhao Yan could only retreat helplessly. The hunters around the perimeter began a