Inside Old Tree.
A tragic, swift battle was drawing to its end.
Fragments of the Heaven-Chosen Divine Sect's twenty enormous Spirit Boats lay scattered across the earth, while shards still imbued with spiritual power floated in the sky.
The battlefield was a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. Countless corpses of Underworld ghosts and monsters had piled into small hills. This was a pitch-black battlefield. At the very beginning, the Underworld's weakest skeletons and zombies had served as the first wave of cannon fodder, effortlessly reduced to ashes beneath the divine sect disciples' magic.
Later came the stronger Underworld dead: Flying Zombies, Tongue-Pulling Ghosts, Scissors Ghosts, Ghost Kings. The Infinity, endless Underworld army had layered itself into mountains of corpses.
They were Infinity—endless. Having died and been reborn throughout countless years in the Underworld, they fundamentally did not know what death was. They knew only that fearless slaughter was the path to dying once more. They yearned for the Underworld's most ancient legend: only by reaching the supreme heights could one behold the Underworld's Six Paths of Reincarnation and walk toward new life. Such a pursuit was too lofty. Perhaps finding a true end of body and soul perishing in the mortal world was the finest choice.
At the very least, in the mortal world, wandering in confusion as they sought the road back to the Underworld was, amid their Infinity of slaughter, the best way for their souls to rest.
Only after all the low-ranking Underworld races had finished fighting did the truly intelligent Underworld officials tread over the path paved by Underworld cannon fodder and arrive before the exhausted Spirit Boats.
At the very center of the corpse mountain was a patch of open ground.
Protecting the Sixth Chosen in the sky was a mid-grade spiritual