In an instant, the whole world fell silent. Everyone felt it—the tsunami-like pressure. A monster sleeping inside Jiang Cheng slowly opened its eyes.
"Thump."
"Thump."
No one knew what kind of monster it was, but everyone heard the beat of a war drum, one thump after another, growing faster and faster.
Jiang Cheng raised his head. His dark eyes had long since lost focus, replaced by a pair of blood-red eyes. Within them lurked the most bone-deep hatred and the most extreme fury. A powerful pressure, no weaker than the Old President's, spread across the entire battlefield.
A vast expanse of blood-red clouds gathered high overhead. As Jiang Cheng strode forward, the clouds advanced with him, clashing against the black mist above the Old President.
He reached back and pulled the broken blade from the ground. Countless cracks suddenly appeared across its mirror-bright surface, and it shattered with a crash. The next moment, a blade as black as ink, its shape brutally grotesque, slowly grew out from the hilt.
Black flames rose from the blade. Jiang Cheng walked faster and faster, until he was running. Though he was alone, his momentum seemed to sweep along with an army. Under No. 13's shocked gaze, he swung once and cleaved apart the monster in front of the Fatty.
Only when the severed limbs and filthy blood splattered everywhere did the other monsters come to their senses. They roared wildly and swarmed toward Jiang Cheng.
But their game had ended the instant that door opened. Watching the figure drag his blade through the blood-soaked rain, Wu knew nothing could change the battle's ultimate outcome. But win or lose, he knew his brother wasn't coming back.
The person at the very center of the battlefield was no longer Jiang Cheng. He had opened that