Yaksha's Might, Massacre!

Steel Vulture's charge came to an abrupt halt. The ferocious grin on his face froze instantly, his eyes filled with incredulous terror and confusion.

A thin line of blood ran from his forehead, down his nose, lips, chin, neck, and chest... extending all the way down and bisecting his entire body along the center.

Sshhk—!

With a soft sound, his body was cleanly split in two along that bloodline, cut diagonally from his left shoulder to his right hip!

The two halves of his corpse crashed heavily to the ground. Blood and organs spilled everywhere, and a rank stench instantly filled the hall.

He was utterly dead.

The entire hall fell deathly silent. Everyone stared wide-eyed, as if even their breathing had stopped for several beats. That was a Three-Star General at the Fifth Level of the Tenth Tier! A commander-level figure in the Cold Night Legion!

He had been killed in a single strike so casually? He had not even blocked one move? If this were true, the Sirius Empire's dignity would truly be utterly disgraced!

Yet killing Steel Vulture did not bring Yaksha the slightest satisfaction. He did not even spare the corpse on the ground a glance, as though he had merely crushed an annoying insect.

His gaze swept across the generals in the hall one by one. Then he raised his blood-dripping blade and casually pointed it at one of them, his voice carrying the teasing cruelty of a cat playing with mice.

"You, and you, you, you... come at me together. That will save me the trouble of dealing with you one at a time and wasting time."

He pointed at ten people in one breath!

Every person he singled out possessed the cultivation of a Three-Star General, ranging from the Fifth to the Sixth