Through God's Perspective overlooking the battlefield, Sky Dragon Lord clearly saw everything that had happened in the Northwest Battlefield.
His last shred of hope—the deadly poisonous fog he had staked everything on, even gambling the Race's Future for, hoping it would at least severely cripple the Huang Army's main force—was now being treated by a special Huang Race division as the finest possible nourishment. They happily scrambled to devour and refine it!
The enemy even handled it with ease, having enough strength left to split off forces to help the main army defend and purify the area, dissolving his final counterattack before it could take shape!
"No... no!! How could this happen?! How is this possible?!"
Sky Dragon Lord utterly collapsed, his psychological defenses completely shattered.
He suddenly slid down from the throne that symbolized his power, collapsing limply onto the ground like mud. His hands clawed desperately at his hair as though he wanted to tear off his own scalp, and he let out a shrill, utterly inhuman wail of despair. The sound echoed through the vast hall, especially piercing and desolate.
All the madness, unwillingness, ambition, and hatred in his eyes had turned into complete gloom and dead silence, without the slightest trace of light remaining.
He had lost... utterly and completely. He had sacrificed hundreds of millions of his people and the allied armies, yet even causing the enemy a respectable amount of trouble had become a distant, unattainable hope.
An extreme sense of frustration, mixed with indescribable emptiness and despair, completely drowned him. It was as though all color had instantly faded from the world before his eyes, leaving only endless darkness.
Yet misfortunes never came singly.
Just as Sky Dragon Lord focused all his attention on the Northwest Battlefield, driven mad with despair by the