"You wanted to keep me here, didn't you?" Wu Heng's voice was calm and unruffled, ringing clearly beside Lilith's ear and even within her mind. "Why are you running?"
Those bland words were more insulting than any mockery.
Lilith's soul had been wounded, and hearing this made her tremble with rage. She forcibly suppressed the turmoil in her mind and snapped back, her voice thick with venom.
"What are you so smug about?! This is Hell. You're trapped here, with no way to escape. Hell has no shortage of demons—even if we have to wear you down, we'll wear you to death."
"Wear me down? You mean like this?"
Wu Heng did not continue the verbal exchange. His expression unchanged, he raised a hand and made a grasping motion toward the area around the black hole.
Within the black vortex, which had begun to slowly contract, stabilize, and was even being continuously repaired, the remaining terrifying energy was forcibly gathered and compressed by his powerful will.
His goal had already been achieved. He might as well make use of the remaining energy.
The pitch-black energy was no longer devouring indiscriminately. Under his control, it condensed into a crescent-shaped blade, its edges flickering with black cracks.
With a wave of his hand, it fell.
The movement was simple and elegant, carrying the indifference of crushing ants.
"Hiss—!"
A faint sound, like cloth being torn, rang out.
The crescent-shaped black light silently swept across an area nearly three hundred meters in front of Wu Heng.
Within that range, more than three hundred demons teetering on the brink of madness and attempting to charge forward suddenly froze.
The next moment, an extremely fine bloodline appeared across their waists. Then, their upper bodies slowly slid down along it. The cuts were smooth as mirrors,