The Desolate Flame Sword Heir and the Flame Soul God Heir fought fiercely.
The Desolate Flame Sword Heir streaked like flowing fire through the boundless divine army, slashing through one formation after another as he charged toward the Flame Soul God Heir at its heart. Yet at every crucial moment, he was forcibly displaced. He seemed to have fought his way across a million miles, but in truth, he had only been going in circles.
He alone faced billions of divine soldiers!
Under that siege, the Desolate Flame Sword Heir's mana, divine sense, and sword intent were slowly being worn away.
This was the classic way a divine heir fought. Wherever he went, he carried a vast divine army formed from countless devout believers and the power of incense offerings. Such armies usually possessed a measure of immortality: so long as the Divine Court stood and its believers lived, they would not die. They were exceedingly troublesome.
The Soulflame Divine Heir was like an invincible commander. He ignored the other sword heirs entirely and spared no troops for defense, calmly and precisely directing his formations to encircle and kill the Desolate Flame Sword Heir. He was a hunter casting his net, slowly exhausting and binding a fierce beast caught in his trap.
The Desolate Flame Sword Heir fell into danger and began to struggle just to keep up.
"Haha!"
The human sword heirs nearby showed no intention of helping him. Instead, they mocked him freely. "That bastard Desolate Flame Sword Heir isn't going to die here, is he?"
"A sword heir is supposed to excel at commanding formations and breaking them."
"If that bastard dies inside someone else's formation, he'll be a laughingstock."
They had not spent the past tens of thousands of years following the Great Sun Sword Heir