Within the pocket dimension, inside the grotto-heaven!
Facing the siege of three Daluo Realm cultivators and over a hundred Taiyi, Yi Ren, who was only at the Taiyi Realm, was in a terrible state.
Her left arm, along with half her shoulder, had been shattered.
Her abdomen had been pierced through as well, leaving a gaping hole, half her intestines spilling out. Only half of her right leg remained.
The Golden Dipper above her head was exceedingly dim at this moment, riddled with countless cracks.
Her aura was no longer as it had been at the start; it had become extremely weak.
Yet beneath her feet lay several hundred corpses, a sight of utter carnage.
Some had been cleaved in two at the waist, their primordial spirits shattered along with them.
Some had lost their heads; some had their entire chests blown away; others had seven-tenths of their bodies crushed to pulp.
The battle had been utterly shocking—and utterly tragic.
Of the three Daluo and several hundred Taiyi, fewer than ten remained uninjured.
At this moment, Yi Ren held half a head in her hand—a Daluo's head. The remaining half wore an expression of boundless terror.
Not far away, the sole surviving Daluo stood at a distance, his face deathly pale.
He was in relatively good condition, not seriously injured.
But even so, facing Yi Ren, whose defeat was already certain and who could collapse at any moment, he did not dare make a move at all.
She was too vicious, too terrifying.
What exactly was wrong with this woman?
She was so badly wounded that anyone else would have died three or four times over. Why could she still stand? He had punched through her stomach and sliced away a third of her face, yet with only one mangled