"One... one sword?"
The other person swallowed with difficulty, his eyes filled with incredulous horror.
"With just a casual wave, tens of thousands of ghostly shadows—including several Saint God Realm Peak ones—were all... all gone?"
"That person... is Yang Lingtian."
"Wasn't he at the Saint God Realm Peak? How could he possibly be this strong?"
"This... this isn't power a Saint God Realm Peak expert should possess. Even an early Divine Sect Realm ancestor couldn't have done it so effortlessly."
"Devil... he's a devil!"
A cultivator collapsed to the ground in a daze, his eyes vacant and his Dao heart almost shattered.
At that moment, fear surged over them like a rising tide and swallowed them whole.
Being in the same place as this god of slaughter made them feel even more despair than facing those endless ghostly shadows.
Yang Lingtian had no idea what those few "survivors" in the distance were thinking, nor did he care in the slightest.
He continued deeper in. As he advanced, the chaotic mists around him grew increasingly dense.
The aura of death and resentment within them also multiplied geometrically.
More and more ghostly shadows condensed around him, and their strength grew greater as well.
Ghostly shadows at the Saint God Realm Peak began appearing frequently.
Some ghostly shadows even began emerging from the depths of the chaos, their bodies radiating faint traces of Divine Sect laws.
These ghostly shadows had already faintly regained a sliver of the intelligence they possessed in life. They no longer attacked purely by instinct.
They knew how to lie in ambush and how to launch coordinated attacks.
Yet none of this made the slightest difference to Yang Lingtian.
His footsteps never paused for even a moment.
Any ghostly shadow that dared approach within a thousand zhang of him