They were irregular spheres that looked like stones. With Tang Changsheng's eyesight, he could faintly make out the patterns and talismans carved into them.
They seemed to be rubbing against the air at tremendous speed, turning red-hot. Their uneven surfaces left some patches dark and others glowing red...
"Not good..."
A sense of danger swept over him, and his Primordial Magnetic Dharma Realm appeared in front of him almost at once.
He had barely done so when the cannonballs split apart in midair, one after another.
The solid shot had suddenly become shrapnel shells.
Nearly half the Dragon Palace fleet was caught in the barrage.
Tang Changsheng's ship was a little farther forward, right in the thick of it.
Countless fist-sized fragments hurtled toward him.
Yet as soon as they neared the ship beneath Tang Changsheng's feet, they grew docile. Their momentum faded, and they began circling a strange force field like Satellites captured by a planet's gravity.
The other ships, if they had no powerful experts guarding them, were not so fortunate.
A relentless hiss rang out as fist-sized fragments riddled countless ships with holes.
Some lost their masts, their sails flapping out of control. Others sank outright...
Worse were the sailors and warriors caught in that storm of violence, their bodies torn apart and riddled like sieves.
That single attack cost at least tens of thousands of lives. Dozens of ships sank, and even more were damaged.
"The Witch Undead ships are formidable! Experts of every faction, follow me! Destroy their fleet!" A voice suddenly rang out as wind and clouds surged.
The voice rolled across a hundred miles. Everyone throughout the enormous fleet heard it clearly. The speaker was at least a Yang Spirit expert!
A thunderous chorus answered from the fleet, and powerful auras shot skyward.