The effect of the "Lone Wolf" martial soul had finally become clear. Suo Ling's "Lone Wolf" had worked in perfect harmony with it, and under the cover of the poisonous mist, they had managed to sneak up on the fallen enemies.
The battlefield was already sloping into dusk.
In the valley between the two armies, the battle had raged from daybreak until late at night.
The cries of pain, the clash of weapons, and the thunder of battle had continued for the entire day.
When the first rays of dawn shone across the valley, the place that had once been a famed battlefield had become a living hell.
Everywhere lay shattered corpses and broken armor. Blood had gathered into streams, flowing through the ravines and pooling in the trenches. The nauseating stench of blood and decay lingered in the air.
The stars had faded from the sky, and the first light of dawn had appeared. The entire battlefield was silent.
Mu Rong stood atop a pile of corpses, his whole body drenched in blood. It was impossible to tell whether it was his own blood or someone else's.
The long blade in his hand dripped with blood. Beneath his dark blue eyes, his expression in the dawn light was so calm that it unsettled anyone who saw it.
He could feel the bloodshed of the battlefield washing over him, and his own soul power had grown stronger. He was now only one step away from level twenty-three.
The battlefield was, indeed, the fastest way to improve one's strength.
Just then, a soldier in a commander's uniform hurried over in a panic. He was so anxious that he could barely catch his breath, and he shouted as he ran.
"Mu Rong! General Ge Long wants to see you... He says you