Yuan Hong stood before the Shang Army's formation, witnessing Wu Wenhua's fall with his own eyes, Chang Hao and Wu Long dying in battle one after another, and his elite troops being wiped out in succession. Overwhelming fury swept through his mind.
Towering rage churned in his chest, while blue-black Savage Qi shot into the heavens from his body, sending the winds and clouds swirling backward.
The resolve to fight to the death had long burned in his heart. With a slight sway, he was about to charge forward and risk his life against the immortals of the Zhou Camp.
But when his gaze swept over the opposing side, his heart suddenly sank.
Nezha displayed his Three Heads and Six Arms, Samadhi Divine Fire blazing fiercely around him, his killing aura soaring into the skies.
Yang Jian stood quietly in the air, his Three-Pointed Double-Edged Blade gleaming with chilling light, his Heavenly Eye shining brilliantly as the Eight-Nine Mysterious Art circulated through his body.
Lei Zhenzi, Huang Tianhua, and the other Chan Sect disciples stood along both flanks, having already formed an encirclement in secret. The moment he attacked, they would swarm him.
Against such a lineup alone, no matter how powerful he was, he would never gain even the slightest advantage.
Yuan Hong clenched his teeth, his resentment having nowhere to vent. After weighing every option, he ultimately refused to gamble the lives of his remaining soldiers. With an angry roar that tore through the sky, he shouted, "Sound the gong! Withdraw!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The urgent clamor of metal rang across the battlefield. The Shang Army soldiers felt as though they had been granted a pardon and hurriedly changed formation, retreating toward their camp like a receding tide.
Yuan Hong cast a deep look toward the Zhou Army's