"Take a look, all of you. Does this make sense? Huh? Does this make any fucking sense?!"
Di Nian Evil Spirit's roar exploded through the mental network, his fury almost burning along the mental links into every ally's mind.
Then he pointed at the figure holding the Golden Greatsword in the sensory image. His thoughts became a cursor, tapping Tu Hu, who radiated golden light, like a teacher rapping on a blackboard:
"Who is this? I'm asking you, who is this? Over a hundred brothers in our alliance spent more than half a year planning and working, never daring to relax for a moment. Only then did we squeeze out the last of that old stele bastard's reserves and fucking forge a Wan Ji. What did those players do? Huh? They just casually pulled out a demigod-realm combatant like that? Huh?"
The mental network fell silent.
The evil spirits who had been celebrating so excitedly moments earlier fell quiet. They could all feel Boss Di Nian's anger and frustration.
"Outrageous!" Di Nian Evil Spirit slammed a fist into the air, sending tremors through the black fog surrounding the High Tower.
Intense frustration set his anger ablaze.
He had sacrificed far too much for this day.
Under relentless harassment from those two beastly factions, he had endured the pressure, proceeding cautiously and exhausting his ingenuity to finally obtain a demigod-level troop type of his own.
For countless days and nights, he had imagined Wan Ji descending upon the Emperor Tomb Mountain Range after its creation and sweeping the battlefield.
The treacherous beastly players and beastly Insect Race would flee in every direction, utterly routed by absolute power.
This should have been his moment of exhilarating revenge after so long suppressing his feelings.
It should also have marked the beginning of a