"My god, what a brutal battle! What on earth happened?!"
"What dense ghostly aura. Could the lords have been fighting Nether Ghosts? Is the battle over now?"
"It should be over. There don't seem to be any more battle tremors."
At once, a squad of several hundred soldiers came running over and arrived beside Xia Ping.
They immediately saw Xia Ping standing in the middle of the battlefield, as well as the state of the surroundings. The ground was pocked with craters everywhere, the destructive power was staggering, and quite a few corpses still lay where they had fallen.
One could well imagine how brutal the battle had been. The aftershocks alone could have destroyed Qingyang City.
In truth, faced with such terrifying momentum, they had not wanted to come at all. The battle's tremors had filled every resident of Qingyang City with terror, making them think the end of the world was at hand.
They were afraid of being caught up in the Nether Ghosts' assault and killed.
But the soldiers had no choice. They could not simply remain ignorant of everything. Moreover, they had been unable to contact Qingyang City's many higher-ups. After discussing it, they finally sent a suicide squad to see what had happened here.
"Look! There's still someone alive here—it's Lord Xia!" a soldier cried out, recognizing Xia Ping.
The other soldiers looked over as well. Naturally, they recognized this man who had caused a huge uproar in Qingyang City days ago, severely wounded Che Xiujun, commander of the three armies, and acted with unparalleled arrogance.
Yet even after doing such things, he had still been treated as an honored guest by the City Lord. It was utterly inconceivable. This had made the soldiers even more familiar with Xia Ping; his reputation had spread far