Within Nether Prison, two of the Four Dark Kings appeared and joined forces to grievously wound Ning Chen.
His wings were torn apart, one arm severed, and his chest pierced through. Even Ning Chen, with his indestructible body, was gradually finding it hard to hold on.
Blood dyed his plain robes red. The strength of darkness was despairing beyond measure; in this end-time age where the power of light was suppressed, even Ning Chen could not display his original strength.
At arm's length, the Plague God looked at the white-haired young man before him and sneered. "The strongest of mankind is nothing more than this."
Leaning on his immortal sword, Ning Chen let blood stream continuously down its blade. More than half his blood energy had drained away, and his consciousness grew hazy, yet he stubbornly refused to fall.
He could not lose!
He still could not lose!
He knew that if he fell here, everything would be over. His life and the lives of his two friends would be left here forever.
He could not lose!
"I cannot lose!"
His blood-stained face was filled with a stubborn refusal to yield. The immortal and demonic essence within Ning Chen surged madly like crashing waves and towering tides, forcibly opening up a patch of light within the World of Darkness.
"Oh? You still have consciousness?"
As the power of light flourished, the Plague God was forced two steps back. Watching the change in the white-haired young man's aura, a strange glint flashed through his eyes.
In the darkness, glazed flames burned. Phoenix fire, demonic flame, and immortal fire intertwined, so brilliant that they illuminated the endless darkness.
Within the glazed flames, the white-haired figure in plain robes stood still. His body endured astonishing heat, his skin beginning to crack and curl.