When endless demonic corpses surrounded him in every direction, when no matter how hard he hacked and slashed he could never finish cutting them down, that feeling of powerlessness drove a person to despair.
Zhang Yang followed behind the convoy, his Demon-Slaying Military Knife swinging without pause as he cut down one demonic corpse after another. He hesitated over whether he should use Demon Language.
Just then, he suddenly felt a terrifying pang of dread. Without a word, he consumed ten Immortal Stones and murmured,
"Demon Language: Heavy Armor!"
This was the third core Demon Language Zhang Yang had fully mastered.
In an instant, enormous black carapace scales enveloped his entire body, forming armor a full half-meter thick. That was the effect of the ten Immortal Stones. The greater the consumption of magical power and spiritual energy, the better the effect.
But almost at the same moment, Zhang Yang was struck by a phantom.
The phantom was neither human nor object. It was a streak of eerie azure sword light. The strike tore through the heavy armor's defenses and severed his left arm at the shoulder, as easily as slicing a cake.
"Human sword cultivator?"
Amid the immense pain, Zhang Yang was stunned beyond words. On this battlefield, where the Devil Race had invaded humanity, how could a human sword cultivator have appeared?
A scarlet sword light flew through the air from afar. Was this the Sword Manipulation Technique?
The distance of dozens of kilometers was crossed in the blink of an eye.
Up ahead, Du Chao and the others in the convoy had already noticed what was happening behind them. They immediately locked onto the sword light and opened fire. Yet that sword light was astonishingly nimble, flashing several times to evade most of the bullets. Then it flicked,