"Fuck, if we'd known, we would've gone left and swallowed our pride too! We've already lost dozens of senior brothers and sisters, damn it!"
A disciple of the Backing Mountain Sect cursed, lingering terror written all over his face. His left arm had been severed, and blood gushed from the stump.
Clutching his wound, he hurried back into the crowd on stumbling feet, hoping to find somewhere safe to recover.
Although everyone in the Backing Mountain Sect was a Body Refining Practitioner, with physiques far stronger than ordinary people's, even their bodies could hardly withstand being torn at by a swarm of monsters and demons.
The one-armed disciple was covered in wounds of every size. Some went deep enough to expose bone, while others even revealed his internal organs. The sight was unbearable.
"Ow! You fucking stepped on my hand!"
A howl of pain rose from the ground. Among the wounded already strewn across it, yet another poor bastard had suffered.
The injured disciple's right hand had been stepped squarely on by that Backing Mountain Sect disciple. He rolled about in agony, cursing nonstop.
"Ow, sorry, junior brother. I didn't see you just now..."
Seeing this, the Backing Mountain Sect disciple hastily apologized, then hurried aside to an empty patch of ground. He sat cross-legged and began circulating his energy to heal his injuries.
Just then, a man drenched in blood, his every movement crazed, suddenly staggered back.
Hideous wounds covered his body, and his clothes had been shredded into strips that dangled precariously from him.
He kept muttering:
"Heh heh heh... I'm number one under heaven..."
"Holy shit, another victim who's had most of his divine soul gnawed away by those uncanny things. Those damned things really are impossible to guard against!"
A Heavenly Prodigy in the crowd,