A full day of brutal fighting drew to a close.
The entire deep valley had long since lost its original appearance, reduced to a devastated ancient battlefield.
Layers of hard mountain rock had shattered. Ravines crisscrossed the earth, and cracks stretched for a hundred miles. Towering ancient trees, each so thick it took several people to encircle its trunk, had all been snapped in half by the battle's aftershocks and crushed into splinters.
Gales howled past, carrying gravel and wood chips. Throughout the surrounding world, the violent, ferocious heat of the Martial Dao still lingered.
At the center of the battlefield, the young Shi Hao stood silently.
His battle robes had long since been torn into ragged strips, and hideous bloody wounds of varying depths crisscrossed his entire body.
Flesh gaped outward, blood had congealed, and shocking injuries covered almost every part of him.
A full day of fighting to the death without sleep or rest, pushing himself far beyond his limits, had consumed most of his vital blood and nearly exhausted his Battle Qi.
His chest heaved violently. Heavy, rapid gasps echoed through the empty valley, revealing his utter exhaustion.
Yet even with his body on the verge of breaking apart, Shi Hao's upright figure had not bent in the slightest.
His back was straight as a spear, his pride lofty as a peak. Even drenched in blood and utterly battered, the fighting spirit in his eyes still burned fiercely, without the slightest retreat or trace of fear.
Across from him, the black-robed Dark Elder stood silently beneath the void.
Ever since the battle began, he had deliberately restrained his aura and suppressed his cultivation, calmly engaging with only the strength of an Early Saint as he toyed with his prey.
But now, the prolonged struggle had completely worn