Heavenly fire fell to the earth.
Such a terrifying scene was seen by both sides battling gods and devils far on the horizon.
The old army, the Daoist sects, and righteous warriors from every side all turned to look into the distance.
What had originally been a streak of light far behind them, beneath darkened skies and over a murky earth, was defended to the death by heroes from all sides. Yet an accident had occurred in the Primordial World, making the soldiers temporarily forget their blood-deep hatred for the Devil Race.
It was a matter of perspective.
The living beings of the great provinces of the Primordial World could see only a round, dark-red fireball in the sky.
But what the Gods and Demons Battlefield at the edge of the Primordial World saw was another sight entirely—grand, with the tragic grandeur of the end of days.
Beneath a gloomy, oppressive sky, the scene seemed frozen in place. A dark-red fireball trailing flames slashed diagonally through the void like a comet passing by. The enormous dark-red sphere tapered from wide to thin, its stream of energy and matter stretching deep into the void. It appeared motionless, yet in truth it was plunging down at tremendous speed.
The image was tragically magnificent, even carrying a faint thread of beauty.
Yet the gods, demons, and immortals felt a chill run down their spines. The sun was falling to earth—this was a world-ending calamity...
After a brief silence.
Erlang the Manifested True Lord, whose expression had always been calm and detached, became enraged.
If the battlefield at that moment could have been painted into an oil painting, the heart of the composition would surely have been Erlang Shen, glaring with eyes wide in fury, his face twisted as he ground his teeth. Even