Time rewound slightly.
To before the battle began.
Plague was repairing her damaged origin while preparing to say something to Withered Silence beside her.
The next second, both their expressions changed.
This fluctuation... a formation?
This aura... the Nine-Bend Yellow River Formation!!!
Damn it!
They found us!
Damn it, she'd been used as bait. That thought took shape in Plague's mind at once.
Without hesitation, the two instantly unleashed their own universes and charged out of their hiding place.
There was no way they could hide now.
Though it was because of Plague, Withered Silence did not complain. They had already been found, and the formation had even been laid out. Complaining now was meaningless. The only thing to do was find an opportunity and see whether they could escape.
The moment they emerged, both their hearts sank to the bottom.
Although no saint from the Mythical Realm had come in person, there were seven quasi-saints in all—every one of them the strongest beneath the saints of the Mythical Realm's great sects.
They had confidence in their own strength, but this was a situation where the few faced the many. Worse still, their opponents had prepared the formation in advance—the renowned Nine-Bend Yellow River Formation.
In this situation, neither timing, terrain, nor human support was on their side.
Having realized their predicament, the two did not fall completely into despair. Instead, they attacked without hesitation.
As New Evils, they possessed the power of Evil Spirits. Even at the quasi-saint level, they could hold a considerable advantage.
The outcome of a battle was beyond doubt.
Forget one-on-one—even one against two, they would still hold the advantage and be able to handle it.
However, the injured Plague faced three opponents, while the uninjured Withered Silence faced four. The advantage granted by the