At the first hint of dawn, the sky had begun to pale, and the wilderness lay shrouded in a thin mist.
Beneath the crumbling kilometer-high city pass.
Inside his silver-white mask, the black centipede-shaped curse mark winding up his left cheek glowed faintly, like the inexhaustible magic in his emerald eyes.
He raised his hand, and the finger pointing toward the legion slowly swept to the right.
A deathly silence filled the surroundings. Only the rustling of the wind through the withered grass could be heard.
In an instant, the entire legion seemed to have been sliced apart by a gale stretching ten thousand meters. Wherever the storm blades passed, no life remained. Or perhaps his edict had sliced open the landscape itself!
Countless warriors had once fought in blood before this pass, attacking and defending it. Now, the land stretching ten thousand meters around it was red with blood once more, leaving only the solitary figure in white before the pass.
The White Robed Pope withdrew his finger and clasped his hands behind his back again.
To him, it was as if nothing had happened. He was as cold as though those lives had long since become undead.
"Clearing a lane with a ninth-tier unit really is fast."
Talia offered her assessment.
If it had been her, wiping out a legion on the march would have taken some effort.
If those legions had reached the City Defense Barrier, and there had been no allied legion to withstand the barrier's suppression and firepower, even clearing them would not have been easy. If there had also been an enemy eighth-tier hero unit inside the defenses, challenging it alone while attacking across the barrier could easily have ended with her being killed instead.
But none of that applied to ninth-tier Lan Keluos.