Having finished all this, Ling Yan put away his folding fan and did not make another move.
His junior brothers and sisters needed experience as well.
The battle among the Lower Realm Cultivators was equally brutal.
The Literary Sect disciples fought side by side with Human Race cultivators against the endless stream of Demon Race forces pouring into the formation.
Spells roared, Blood Qi churned, and casualties were unavoidable.
Once Demon Race soldiers fell, they truly died and disappeared.
But the Literary Sect disciples and Human Race cultivators were different.
Whenever someone suffered grave injuries in battle, their figure would strangely vanish amid a flash of spiritual light, as though an invisible hand had pulled them from the battlefield and spared them the risk of death.
Seeing the Demon Gods completely suppressed and the battle turning sharply against them, Jiuying could no longer sit still.
He truly did not want to confront the Literary Sect disciples. For a Quasi-Saint to attack Great Luo Golden Immortals was already bullying the weak.
If Wen Zu took notice because of it, a mere flick of his finger would probably be enough to leave Jiuying completely destroyed.
But he was, after all, one of the Ten Great Demon Saints.
After a brief struggle, he decided that, within his ability, he at least had to save the Demon Gods.
In an instant, Quasi-Saint pressure descended with a boom.
Its force swept across the battlefield, forcibly dividing it apart.
At this moment, more than half of the twenty-four Demon Gods had already been lost.
Six Demon Gods had died at Ling Yan's hands.
Two had been killed by Han Chi using the Ice Soul Cold Needle.
One had been cleaved apart by Yinglong with the Black Dragon Sword.
Of the nine Demon Gods bound by the