Weak?
Butterfly Immortal, the Immortal Artifact Heir, and the other Dao Children gnashed their teeth, their eyes turning red.
Yet more than hatred, they felt shock at that terrifying mastery of battlefield formations. Looking up at it was like gazing into the blue heavens, enough to send a chill through them.
Among the Dao Children, the Immortal Artifact Heir, the Black Prison Sacred Son, and Butterfly Immortal were the strongest in the art of battlefield formations. All three came from races steeped in it and had always liked to sweep aside their enemies with masses of Dao soldiers, reducing mighty foes to ash between smiles and conversation.
But the formations those three commanded were as far beneath his as mud was beneath the clouds!
"We..."
"Are we going to force our way through the boundary wall and fight the Pure-Yang Sword Heir while facing all those formations?"
The Black Prison Sacred Son fell silent for a moment before speaking.
If they could hold out for a while under the Pure-Yang Sword Heir's assault, vast numbers of Dao soldiers would arrive quickly. Then they would once again have an overwhelming advantage in numbers.
They knew their fate.
Under the Supremes' will, they had to kill the Pure-Yang Sword Heir even if it cost them their lives. Only by killing him would they earn the right to survive.
They fought this battle for themselves, their races, and their sects.
How they fought it, however, was not theirs to decide.
"This man must come from a sect exceptionally skilled in battlefield formations. Perhaps a seed of the Great Yin-Yang Sword Realm transformed and mutated into a sect devoted to them."
"That is what I cannot understand."
"Even with the Great Yin-Yang Sword Realm pouring all its resources into him, how could someone