If they made a move and drew the Demon Race's attention, it would all be over.
"Zhao Huaian, no one can save you today. Die!"
One of the Shadow Clan's prodigies wore a cruel grin, his whole body trembling violently.
Not from fear, nor from injury, but from excitement. The Human Race's number one prodigy, hailed as the one most likely to reach Tribulation Transcendence, was about to die by his hand.
Just thinking about it thrilled him.
He had killed Zhao Huaian with his own hands. Once they got out, surely plenty of powerful figures would be willing to take him on as a disciple.
Then his future would be bright, and his standing in the Shadow Clan would surely rise. Just thinking about it filled him with excitement.
A blade appeared along his raised right arm, and he thrust it toward Zhao Huaian without hesitation.
Zhao Huaian struggled to raise the spear in his right hand and block the blow.
A deafening crash rang out. Zhao Huaian was sent flying, his body hurled away like a punching bag. He smashed through several rocks before finally coming to a stop in midair.
Zhao Huaian's breathing was now exceedingly faint. He struggled to open his bloodstained eyes and fixed them on the Shadow Clan prodigy before him.
He had underestimated the poison inside him. It had already spread through his internal organs, and even his Nascent Soul, which had once brimmed with divine power, was slowly being corrupted.
At this point, forget fighting—he could not even move.
That last blow had shattered his shinbone, and indescribable pain surged through his mind.
He was now in a truly wretched state.
Every living being from every race in the Eastern Continent saw the Human Race's number one prodigy, Zhao Huaian, in such