"Damn it—die."
At that moment, Ye Lin was growing irritated. He threw a punch behind him, and in an instant, the black shadow at his back was blasted apart by his fist, turning into a wisp of black smoke and vanishing.
The next moment, another demon crawled out of the deep well below and charged at Ye Lin.
These demons were only fast and vicious, with pitifully weak defenses. Ye Lin could kill one with a single punch.
Yet no matter what he did, the black shadows kept coming in an endless stream.
"This guy's pretty strong. He can actually kill an Eight Directions Demon with one punch. But the only way to break this technique is to kill the caster. Still, getting close to the caster is far too difficult."
"True enough. But he apparently hasn't discovered the weakness of the Eight Directions Well yet. What a pity."
"If this keeps up, he'll be worn to death alive. This Eight Directions Well is truly monstrous—worthy of being Wang Feng's signature move."
"No matter how many times I see it, it's still this shocking. Who knows what kind of dogshit luck Wang Feng stumbled into to obtain such an absurd technique."
In the distant void, mighty experts at the Tribulation Transcendence and Dao Integration stages watched Ye Lin from afar and discussed him among themselves. Their gazes toward Wang Feng were filled with envy.
The prodigies of their transcendent factions were divided into four tiers. Wang Feng's personal strength was nothing special; he had clearly belonged to the fourth tier. Yet relying on this technique, he had forcibly squeezed into the third tier. Even prodigies of the second tier had been tormented to the brink of misery by Wang Feng's Eight Directions Well.
Even now, there was no technique that