"Kill!!!" "Kill!!!"
On the North Sea battlefield, Yin Shang's hundred-thousand-strong army was locked in a fierce battle with Yuan Futong and the seventy-two allied lords. Limbs littered the ground, blood flowed like rivers, and anguished cries rose and fell everywhere!
"Hmph, Yuan Futong! If you surrender now, there may still be room to spare your lives. Otherwise, once your army is defeated, I'll not only cut you to pieces, I'll wipe out your entire clans!"
Wen Zhong sat astride Ink Qilin, gripping his male and female whips. All three of his eyes glared as he roared at Yuan Futong.
"Big words, Wen Zhong! It's still anyone's guess who'll win!"
A trace of cold mockery curled Yuan Futong's lips. He paid no heed to Wen Zhong's threat. In particular, when he thought of the terrifying figures backing him, he felt even more at ease.
"Outrageous! You've infuriated me! You treacherous rebel, I'll beat you to death!"
A fierce glint flashed in Wen Zhong's eyes. He slapped Ink Qilin, and a few inches of white light shot from the third eye on his forehead. With a flick of both hands, his male and female whips unleashed a bolt of lightning as thick as an arm. With a deafening boom, it hurtled toward Yuan Futong.
"Hahaha! Wen Zhong, you've used that spiritual power countless times over the past ten years, but what has it done to me? You'd be better off working with me to overthrow the Yin Shang dynasty. Then we could divide the land and rule our own territories. Wouldn't that be splendid?"
Yuan Futong ignored the lightning crashing down from the sky and laughed arrogantly. A several-zhang-wide barrier suddenly appeared around him, its surface flickering with swastika-shaped runes. The lightning was gradually ground away by the barrier.
"Hmph!"
Wen Zhong