War was cruel. Either you died, or I did.
Everyone fought with all their might.
Soldiers and demon beasts slaughtered each other madly.
Great demons and Qi Refining cultivators fought to the death.
Demon Kings and Spirit Refining cultivators clashed fiercely.
Weapons struck claws and fangs, throwing off sparks. Demonic arts and spells exploded as they intertwined. Divine abilities contended, and Dharma Treasures bombarded each other.
Laws churned, and the Great Dao hummed.
A great demon spilled blood, its chest pierced by a great halberd.
A commander fell, torn apart by sharp claws.
Amid the drifting rain of blood and the smoke of war, Primordial Chaos Qi worked together with a trace of Temporal Intent, allowing Xuanming to see his ambusher clearly.
A hooked nose, a large, upturned mouth, eyes like lightning, a cold expression, a burly frame, and a pair of wings on his back.
He looked very much like the Thunder Duke in Xuanming's memories of his previous life.
More importantly, he was actually a Yang Spirit Demon King.
In that lightning-flash instant, Xuanming recalled an account he had once read in the Record of Strange Beasts.
Legend had it that the Thunderbird Clan inhabited the Arctic Demon Territory. With powerful bodies and astonishing speed, they moved freely through thunderclouds, favored children of the Thunderclap. They could also change the color of their feathers with the seasons, blending into their surroundings.
Ice Worms were merely assassins who stalked and ambushed within the Arctic Demon Territory, while thunderbirds were kings among assassins.
The clan was versatile, equally adept in the open and in the shadows. Visible, they were warriors; invisible, they were assassins. They were exceedingly troublesome.
After he had swiftly and decisively subdued the Ice Worm King and the peng demon, the commander of the Demon Race from