Everyone was shaken off onto the ground.
The Transcendents reacted quickly, each resorting to their own methods.
Some stepped on air to brace themselves, some turned into phantoms, and some drove their weapons into the bone wall to slow their descent.
One after another, they managed reasonably steady landings.
But the ordinary people in the Score-Chasing Convoy had no such abilities.
Like beans in a winnowing basket, they kept tumbling down Bone Mountain, rolling and colliding.
Screams mingled with the cracking of bones, making everyone's scalp crawl.
But strangely...
No one died.
Some had blood streaming from their battered heads, some had broken arms and legs, but there was not a single corpse.
Those ordinary people had rolled down from over a hundred meters up, slamming into sharp bone shards.
By all rights, several should have died, yet none did.
They were all alive, covered in injuries and howling in pain, but alive.
Yang Yong whipped his head around to look in one direction.
Ye Zefeng knelt on one knee, so drained that he looked as though his flesh and blood had been sucked dry. His face was pale as paper, his eyes deeply sunken, and he did not even have the strength to stand.
He clutched the Fate-Changing Book in a death grip, dark red threads of blood seeping through its cover.
Yang Yong understood at once.
In that instant, Ye Zefeng had used his Fate-Changing Book to forcibly alter the fortunes of those around him, saving those ordinary people's lives.
But the price was that he himself had been almost completely drained.
Smoke filled the air.
Shattered bones and dust rose dozens of meters high, obscuring everyone's vision.
Coughing and squinting, they stared warily into the depths of the smoke.
Only after a long while did the dust