The remaining people threw away their weapons one after another.
They fell to their knees in the void, kowtowing like pounding garlic.
They had been beaten into complete submission and no longer possessed even the slightest desire to resist.
However, Yang Lingtian's gaze remained icy as he looked at them.
"Surrender?"
He slowly opened his mouth, his voice devoid of emotion.
"From the moment you decided to attack my wife, your fate was already sealed."
"And that is death."
The instant his voice fell,
a gray sword light swept across the sky like the scythe of the Grim Reaper.
"No!"
The Divine Sect experts kneeling and begging for mercy let out despairing roars.
But it was all too late.
Wherever the sword light passed, heads flew into the sky one after another.
Blood once again dyed the earth crimson.
When the last Divine Sect expert collapsed into the pool of blood,
the entire battlefield finally fell completely silent.
Only Yang Lingtian remained, standing with his sword in hand.
He was like the sole king in this blood-colored purgatory.
He slowly turned around. Those eyes stained with endless blood and killing intent gazed into the distance.
They settled on the ten Black Robe Divine Lords who had watched coldly from beginning to end.
The corners of his lips curled into an icy arc.
"The warm-up is over."
"Now it's your turn."
Yang Lingtian's cold voice echoed through the silent cavern.
The ten Black Robe Divine Lords' expressions shifted slightly when they heard this.
They looked at the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, and at the young man drenched in blood.
Yet his aura had not diminished—instead, it had grown even stronger. For the first time, a trace of solemnity arose in their hearts.
"Good lad. You truly exceeded this