The camp was filled with wails of grief.
The Twelve Seals hovered in midair, glaring down like tigers watching their prey.
The tents had been caught in the aftermath of the battle and were now buried deep beneath the ruins.
And the man responsible for all of this stood beneath the dim yellow night sky, looking down upon the crowd below like a god.
Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind—an interesting one.
The Heavenly Slaughter Battle Ruins had performed exceptionally well in actual combat so far, but improving it was immensely difficult. It required him to slowly gather pure Battle Intent to strengthen it permanently.
"Fighting people one by one is far too inefficient. Is there any way to gather everyone in the central region of the Hundred Prisons Hunting Ground and make them willingly fight?"
Jiang Yan had a rough idea in mind. But putting it into practice might prove troublesome and would require a certain amount of materials.
So he raised his eyes toward the four True Intent Realm martial artists facing him.
"Submit to me, and I will spare your lives."
"Hahahaha! I, Zhao Yin, lived as a hero among men, and I will die as a mighty ghost! No one in this world can make me submit!"
Zhao Yin threw back his head and laughed, staring disdainfully at Jiang Yan like an unyielding war god, his iron bones ringing with defiance.
Having said that, he punched toward Jiang Yan.
"Die, damn you!"
Boom!
The Twelve Seals burst with crimson light, piercing through Zhao Yin's head at absolute speed.
Pfft—
Zhao Yin's body fell from the sky, crashing down amid the groaning crowd below.
Someone tremblingly went over to turn his body over, immediately setting off cries of alarm.
"Zhao Yin is dead!"
Everyone stared in