On the soft black-red ground, a young man, his chest covered in fresh blood, held a longsword in his hand. At this moment, his longsword was half-dragging while one hand clutched tightly at the bloody claw mark on his chest to slow the bleeding.
He stepped forward frantically, his face pale, the blood at his lip corners still wet. In his eyes were dimness, regret, and despair.
"Could it be that I'm going to die on the Deceptive Realm Battlefield?" the man grimaced and muttered, not daring to look back. His Mysterious Qi was circulating to the ultimate level, disregarding his injuries, as he buried his head and charged forward.
Behind him.
There was a sharp sound cutting through the cold.
And the nauseating scent of blood closed in rapidly.
A few breaths later.
"Damn!!!" The man suddenly stopped his body, which had been rushing madly, spun around.
No choice.
He couldn't escape.
His speed was far too slow.
