There was not a single cultivator nearby.
Even the lesser demons who had initially wanted to watch the spectacle had been reduced to dust the instant the battlefield opened, the moment countless streams of magical light surged through the heavens.
For ten thousand miles, there was not the slightest trace of living breath.
Only Ghost Mountain stood there, barren and deathly silent. Demonic energy shrouded its pitch-black slopes, while sinister, uncanny vines lashed and writhed outward like tentacles from the colossal Abyss at its center.
Yet they still struggled to cross that final sliver of distance separating the Abyss from the surface.
Who could have imagined that the center of this vortex would unexpectedly fall into such a strange, vacant stillness?
At the heart of the ghost vines, the silhouette of a vine so tall it could almost span heaven and earth stood within the black mist.
Layer upon layer of black mist streamed down from the coffin.
"Longevity... longevity..."
An eerie, sinister voice seemed to echo endlessly through this darkened space.
"That place."
The very instant that voice appeared.
Countless streams of Great Dao light were already descending across the battlefield, while terrifying, gigantic silhouettes called forth wind and rain.
Yet the moment that whisper drifted through the Abyss, they too immediately spared some attention for Ghost Mountain.
Every faction knew perfectly well what they had come for.
Now that something had stirred, some secretly performed divinations, their brows furrowing as they glimpsed a vision of ethereal heavenly light and flaunting crimson.
A storm of bloody wind and sanguine rain was the destined outcome revealed by heaven's secrets.
Yet this whisper abruptly prompted those on the previously heated battlefield to tacitly ease their attacks on one another.
"That voice... could the Devil Master still be alive?"
Someone frowned,