--The earlier chapters were numbered wrong. Fixing them would be too much trouble, so I adjusted the numbering here instead.--
Crack! Crack! Crack!
On the warship platform, countless Purple Mansion Cultivators hurled out defensive and offensive spells, bombarding one another without any particular aim.
As for how many people on the other side they had blasted apart, they had no idea.
Under these abruptly imposed rules for the spell battle, these Purple Mansion Cultivators were nothing more than unfeeling artillery batteries.
On a battlefield of this scale, their individual abilities and tricks merely let them cling to life a little longer.
The rest was down to fate.
If their abilities were great enough, they could defy heaven and rewrite their fate: My fate is mine to command, not heaven's.
--There were indeed those who relied on their exquisite spells and deep reserves to withstand torrent after torrent of spells head-on, and there were plenty of them.
As Wang Quan and the others hurled spells at one another, gears turned inside the warship platform, and the battlefield kept shrinking.
Every ten breaths, the warship platform shrank another ring.
In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the enormous warship platform had actually shrunk by two-thirds.
The number of Purple Mansion Cultivators had also fallen by roughly two-thirds.
At this point, although countless spells were still colliding, the Purple Mansion Cultivators either streaked about in escape light, joined forces to cast defensive spells, or threw out Magic Treasures, forcibly weathering the onslaught.
Fewer and fewer cultivators withdrew from the spell battle.
Another few dozen breaths passed. The cultivators had already adapted to this frenzied bombardment, and no one withdrew anymore.
Then a voice rang out. "The first stage of the spell battle has ended. The second stage will now