Fallen blood.
Mournful cry.
Despite the darkness overshadowing the bloodstains, and the disappearance of the Buddhist light, everyone who did not participate in this battle could clearly see that the Dao soldiers and ten half-step Dao Ancestors were plunging into the darkness like dumplings with screams and spurting blood.
No.
Not like dumplings.
More like fish impaled by a javelin, descending from the heavens and piercing the water.
The fish were them.
The javelin, naturally, was the black palm descending with a thumbs-down gesture.
No matter how they struggled, the black palm, like a thumbs-down, stood firm like Mount Tai.
In contrast to this scene, another picture unfolded.
From the start of the death match to the emergence of the pitch-black Demon Suppressing Saint Hand Array, it took less than two breaths.
