"What do you think?"
When the Five-Colored Giant Sword in Yuan Wuxing's hand fell for the third time, the Asura Race army's formation patterns shattered completely.
The blood-red light was like a smashed mirror, its fragments scattering through the void. Every shard reflected the face of an Asura Race expert in the instant before death.
Before those fragments could drift far, they were swallowed by five-colored light and turned into nothingness.
The army of Element Controller Clan experts charged out from behind like a raging flood, instantly scattering the Asura Race formation and leaving countless dead and wounded.
The Old Fossil knelt in the void, watching those fragments, watching his swallowed clansmen, watching the army collapse under the pincer attack of the Gray Light Sphere and the Five Elements Heaven Realm. His clouded eyes were filled with despair.
His lips trembled, his body shook, and his hands braced against the void, his nails digging into it as though he were trying to grasp something slipping away.
The Asura Race was finished.
This army was finished.
Xiu Fu was dead, the Netherworld Secret Realm was gone, the Asura Blood Spear had been lost, and now even this last bit of their foundation would be buried here.
He thought of the tens of millions of years the Asura Race had wandered beyond the realms. He thought of their fallen ancestors, of the clansmen sacrificed to refine the Netherworld Bloodline, and of how Xiu Fu had followed behind him as a child, calling him Ancestor.
Tears fell from his eyes. He was not crying; the tears simply fell on their own. He could not control them.
He was of the Creation Sequence.
He had once stood high within the Asura Race, once stood atop the Myriad Worlds and looked down upon all living