His temper was the worst, because their Dao-Seeking Immortal Sect had been pushed to the very front for several rounds.
Several Spirit Transformation disciples had all fallen, leaving only a group of Foundation Establishment and Golden Core disciples. They absolutely could not send out the sect's last reserves to give away more heads.
Now, after the fighting, aside from him, the steward, three Elders of their Dao-Seeking Immortal Sect had fallen, the Sect Leader was heavily injured, and the upper ranks had nearly been wiped out to the last man.
It was all because the Ninefold Immortal Sect had painted them a big flatbread, saying that everyone was comrades of the Immortal Realm, and once the Immortal Clan was dealt with, rewards would be given according to merit and fortune would follow.
Wu Ba listened to their complaints, his expression darkening. With a wave of his large hand, he said:
"Enough! What is there to complain about? In an age of great struggle, how could there be no deaths!"
"Of the five hundred people this Saint brought out from the mountains, more than half have already died in battle!"
"Lin Sizhu has not forgotten you."
"Now this Saint will go meet the other side!"
He tightened his grip on the saber hilt, pushed off with his foot, and his figure shot straight out of the immortal pass, sweeping toward the battlefield to the north.
He arrived alone within the battlefield. When he drew near and looked out, the sight was even more shocking to the eye and heart.
The ground for dozens of li around had been battered until it was riddled with wounds, huge craters visible everywhere.
Scattered broken swords and shattered blades were stabbed into the mud, some still faintly glowing with lingering light.
The air was