The gloomy Crimson Dungeon.
Blood-red light illuminated heaven and earth, bathing the entire dungeon in crimson. The area on the left held rows of cages, each with a figure inside.
A count revealed more than twenty people.
The Eight Desolate Puppet Ancestor and the Desolate God Hall Master were among them. The rest were all members of the Heavenly Spirit Race.
The area on the right was a sea of crimson, with thousands upon thousands of blood spirits floating in midair, exuding an eerily dense demonic qi.
Boom!
Just then, a tremendous explosion rang out overhead, followed by an enormous breach opening above them.
Someone was attacking the dungeon from above!
The Eight Desolate Puppet Ancestor, the Desolate God Hall Master, and the others froze, exchanging bewildered looks. They had no idea what was happening outside.
But even if someone was attacking the dungeon, they could not break free of their cages.
They had been imprisoned in the dungeon for an epoch. That was not a long time, but the problem was that the blood spirits had been draining their divine strength and flesh every moment of it.
They had long since become terribly weak.
Even if the dungeon were opened now, they would not be able to leave safely.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!...
As though sensing a threat—or receiving some sort of command—the mass of blood spirits on the right side of the dungeon suddenly seethed.
The countless blood spirits packed into the air abruptly transformed into streaks of blood-red light, surging toward the Eight Desolate Puppet Ancestor, the Desolate God Hall Master, and the others.
"This is bad!"
"A blood spirit uprising!"
"Damn it, if all these blood spirits rush us, we're dead for sure."
Everyone paled in horror. Ever since the Demon Spirit Race had captured them, they