In the height of summer, gray-black clouds hung heavy in the sky like the wings of giant birds. The heat was so stifling it was hard to breathe, and the humidity in the air was astonishing; grab a fistful of air, and you could squeeze out a great handful of water droplets.
Lin Qi sat in the rear garden of the Dragon Mountain Empire's imperial palace, idly nudging a vine-woven swing before him with the tip of his foot. Yun, Elysian Heaven, and Princess Qingli sat shoulder to shoulder on the swing, snickering softly to one another. Who knew what they were laughing about?
Mr. Mo stood more than ten meters away with a gloomy face, lowering his head to look at a crimson rose in full bloom as he dryly reported a string of figures to Lin Qi. How many more soldiers had been reorganized in recent days, how many had been sent to the battlefield, how many had died, how many sets of armor had been replenished, how many weapons forged, how many coffins made, how many body bags requisitioned in haste...
More than a month had passed since the Hall of Heroes had fallen into their hands. During that month, the gods' followers had indeed fought until corpses lay strewn everywhere, but the gods had not been idle either—the Evil Fetus of Myriad Spirits on the Undead Continent posed an enormous threat to them, and the gods were joining forces to deal with this evil creature.
Every divine pantheon had dispatched several chief god-level beings to hold the line, leading elite forces in a standoff against the Evil Fetus of Myriad Spirits. No one wanted to waste too much energy on that aberration, but that terrifying thing, single-mindedly bent on devouring the gods, was far too great