The Devil Race baron appeared in the temple again—this time atop the altar. Having experienced spatial transfer while conscious for the first time, his mind went blank for a few brief seconds before his entire body began struggling and twisting inside the exoskeletal semi-automatic confinement pod that held him fast.
His sea of qi had been shattered, leaving him unable to use Battle Qi. With the tendons in his hands and feet severed and his bones broken, the Devil Race baron could only writhe with his body. Yet sturdy metal locking devices bound his shoulders, waist, and neck. How could the little strength of the muscles twisting in his torso possibly destroy the set of restraints Edward had so meticulously prepared for him? To the Devil Race baron now, this was like using restraints meant for a tiger to lock up a cat. His struggles and writhing were merely an ant trying to shake a tree—utterly futile.
Zhang Tie was summoning squads of Devil Race legion warriors. Every one of them was at least level nine, with the strongest reaching level fifteen. Squad after squad of Devil Race warriors appeared at Zhang Tie's summons, marching in crisp, orderly steps as they formed neat ranks and rows throughout the vast temple.
Only after summoning more than 1,800 people, nearly filling the entire temple, did Zhang Tie stop. He turned his head and looked at the Devil Race baron, who was writhing in agony like a maggot.
The Devil Race baron's eyes were wide open, bloodshot as he glared at Zhang Tie and the Devil Race legions that kept appearing out of thin air in the temple.
What he saw before him was simply too overwhelming. To anyone witnessing such a scene for the first time, calling it a divine miracle would