Scholar Wang Rang's head was pounding, as if countless bells and drums were clanging inside his skull. He clutched his chest in pain, as though desperately trying to suppress something.
But the agony on his face was enough to show how he felt. No matter how hard he tried to hold it back, he couldn't stop the sweet, salty taste of old blood rising in his mouth. With a splutter, he spat it out, spraying blood across the ground like plum blossoms against snow—a gruesome sight.
Wang Rang's subordinates were all pale, as if their souls had suddenly been pulled from their bodies. They stood dumbstruck, staring at the wreckage strewn across the ground.
How could this have happened?
The Teleportation Formation before them had not only been stripped of its massive formation plate, which had been smashed into powder and scattered everywhere; the carved lines of the formation around it had also been completely destroyed by a terrifying force. Not a trace of their original patterns remained.
The formation plate and every carved line around it were utterly ruined. They were not only unusable; even recreating them according to their original patterns was now impossible.
Whoever had done this had been vicious. They had practically torn the entire formation out by its roots.
"Sir! Sir..."
After vomiting blood, Wang Rang's face turned yellow as paper, and he could barely catch his breath. Only then did several of his subordinates snap out of it and rush forward to help him.
After a flurry of first aid, Wang Rang finally managed to draw a breath. His whole body trembled, and his throat worked as if he were trying to force all the foul air from his lungs.
After a long while, Wang Rang rasped weakly, "Call for help. Call for help!"