At the center of the battlefield, the woman holding water in her left hand and lightning in her right shone brilliantly. Without a thought for the safety of anyone around her, she unleashed the most dangerous attack spells in a frenzy.
The ten thousand deities she had brought scattered away from her the moment they landed, as though lingering a moment longer would get them killed.
Neither the Immortals of China nor the Black Monks of Extreme Darkness dared approach the pair, until the Orthodox Gods of the Thunder Department and the Dragon King of the East Sea appeared.
They were among the few Immortals present who could withstand Medusa's indiscriminate attacks.
Du Yu stood in a corner, looking up at the sky in bewilderment.
The war had been raging for several hours, and the magical clashes between the Immortals had grown increasingly vicious.
By rights, those at lower cultivation levels would have fallen in the first wave of collisions. As the saying went, great waves sifted the sand; the hundred thousand still alive on the battlefield should have been either reasonably accomplished cultivators or particularly cunning characters.
The survivors were all elites, which would, in turn, drive the war into a second peak of slaughter.
But that was not what happened.
The forces Great Dark Heaven had brought were simply too weak.
So weak that Du Yu felt having so many Immortals resist him together was practically bullying.
That sense of wrongness kept coiling around Du Yu's heart, putting him on his guard.
Because he knew Great Dark Heaven had far more to offer than this.
They had launched countless attacks before, and every single time, without exception, they had purged the entire Immortal Realm.
But how exactly had they done it?
With these Black Monks and their