The staff weighed a thousand jun, whipping out tens of thousands of shadows through the void. Every single one was incomparably powerful, enough to smash an ordinary Myth Realm expert to death with ease.
Clang!
Another tremendous boom rang out. Ye Xiwen received that thousand-jun force head-on with both hands, his palms already mangled beyond recognition. Cracks spread across his entire body, and blood gushed from him in an even more horrifying torrent, like a rain of blood.
The entire scene looked utterly terrifying.
Everyone stared in stunned disbelief. Yuan Ba Tian's strength was known to all. As a generation's overlord of the Demon Race, his prestige was no less than that of the old clan chief of the human race. His cultivation was earth-shattering, and even among those at the Po Wang Realm Seventh Level, he rarely found an opponent. Such strength could only be called heaven-shaking and earth-shattering.
Yet he had failed to take down Ye Xiwen after two consecutive blows.
The wind swept in every direction, carrying a thick stench of blood. No one knew how much blood and how many bones lay scattered amid the corpses. This was a war for the survival of two races, where human lives were cheaper than grass.
Everyone looked at Ye Xiwen, unable to understand why he insisted on taking such attacks head-on. What exactly was he being so stubborn about?
Why did he have to persist like this?
He could clearly dodge, or use a magical artifact to resist, yet he insisted on using his fleshly body to withstand it. What was he thinking?
Blood splattered through the air, gleaming with astonishing divine radiance, as though chunks of heavenly materials and earthly treasures had burst forth.
Yuan Ba Tian narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "Since you wish to