Su Tao needed no mercy.
The slaughter continued.
Time flowed on.
One incense stick.
Two incense sticks.
One hour.
Two hours.
Finally, when the last soldier was devoured by the golden threads and fell from the sky as a dried corpse, heaven and earth fell completely silent.
The army of several billion had been utterly annihilated.
The three great imperial dynasties had three Quasi-Saints at the third heaven, several at the second heaven, and countless at the first heaven. Daluo Golden Immortals, Primordial Unity Golden Immortals, and True Immortals were as numerous as the hairs on an ox.
Now, all of them had become dried corpses, piled across the earth below.
Those corpses lay densely packed, covering tens of thousands of miles of land.
Mountains of corpses rose one after another, stretching beyond the eye's reach.
Blood gathered into rivers, winding across the earth and staining every inch of land crimson.
The stench of blood was so thick it could not disperse, shooting straight into the clouds and dyeing even the heavens a dark red.
And Su Tao stood above that mountain of corpses and sea of blood.
The golden light around him had become dazzling to the extreme.
Within that golden light, countless faces struggled, roared, wept, and begged.
Their voices converged into one, like a lament from hell, making one's scalp prickle and soul tremble.
But Su Tao did not care in the slightest.
He raised his head and looked toward the heavens.
That gaze remained cold, hollow, devoid of any emotion.
Then, he smiled.
That smile was eerie and sinister, enough to send a chill down one's spine.
"Not enough."
He spoke softly.
His voice was not loud, yet in this dead-silent world, it was exceptionally clear.
"Not enough..."
He murmured, his gaze drifting into the distance.