Above the Eastern Subcontinent, the Hell Arena, which had originally hung high in the sky, suddenly vanished without a trace. Lin Qi, disguised as Bone-Carving Knife Sugra, shot into the air with a shrill cackle. A massive black crow abruptly swooped down from the heights, landing precisely beneath Lin Qi's feet. Carrying him on its back, it wheeled once and flew westward.
Yan Zhe, A Shinu, and the other gods appeared in the sky, trembling from head to toe. When they had first been sealed inside the Hell Arena, the gods under their command had numbered in the billions. Yet now that the Hell Arena had suddenly disappeared, only a scattered few hundred thousand remained at their sides. In a duel that had lasted merely a few days, the gods belonging to the Heavenly Temple and the Miro Divine Cult had actually lost more than ninety-nine percent of their numbers.
Yan Zhe had no blood to spit, but his true form, like a black sun, contracted violently, clearly revealing how shaken, conflicted, and agonized he was. The Hell Arena was a primordial divine artifact he had activated—how could it suddenly undergo such a terrifying mutation?
A Shinu, meanwhile, simply spat a mouthful of blood far into the distance. His thousand-odd arms clenched weapons of every kind as he shrieked hysterically at Yan Zhe, "Yan Zhe! It was you! You destroyed the Miro Divine Cult! You got so many of my clansmen killed! Between you and me, it's death without end!"
A deep rumble issued from within Yan Zhe's body. At that moment, Yan Zhe, too, developed thoughts identical to A Shinu's. Death without end—absolutely death without end! It was not only the gods of the Miro Divine Cult who had suffered casualties; countless gods belonging to the Heavenly Temple had