(First update)
Boom! Boom! ...
Amid the unceasing cannon fire, the entire battlefield descended into chaos.
Yang Ming sat inside the Italian Cannon, his ten fingers dancing over the complex control panel as though playing a piano. He constantly adjusted the cannon's aim, firing every shell toward the areas where Spirit Hall's forces were most densely concentrated.
Every shell carried the destructive power of a full-force strike from a level-sixty Spirit Emperor!
With such reckless, no-expense-spared bombardment, Yang Ming's results were equally remarkable!
Although Spirit Masters above level forty could join forces to intercept the shells midair, they could not withstand Yang Ming's frequent and concentrated barrage. Spirit Hall's subordinates suffered devastating losses. Looking across the battlefield, rows of buildings had collapsed, leaving rubble everywhere. Corpses lay scattered across the ground, while the wounded groaned and cried out from gaps in the wreckage.
According to incomplete statistics, the hundreds of shells Yang Ming had expended had killed at least a thousand Spirit Masters!
Naturally, the overwhelming majority of those thousand Spirit Masters had been low- and mid-level Spirit Masters, with very few Advanced Spirit Masters among them. After all, once one reached level sixty or above, not only was one's ability to survive formidable, but one's ability to flee was also far beyond anything low- and mid-level Spirit Masters could compare to.
Just as Yang Ming prepared to expand his gains, the consequences of ignoring the cannon barrel's wear finally erupted. The barrel had reached a temperature of over a thousand degrees, blazing red and scorching hot like molten iron. It could no longer fire another shell, or it would inevitably explode.
Yang Ming fled the cockpit as it began to smoke. With a wave of his hand, golden ripples appeared in the air as the Gate of Babylon swallowed