The sword and spear clashed once more with a loud crash, yet the sound was much weaker than before, not because either of them held back their strength.
Both had unleashed their divine skills, their colliding forces tightly confined to a mere inch, not a trace escaping.
The Undead Knight thrust his long spear, blood-red light flickering at its tip, a murderous aura ascending to the skies with unstoppable momentum.
The aura felt almost tangible, carrying the battlefield's cold and violent essence, bodies piled, blood seas surging; before the spear even reached, everyone's skin prickled with a stinging sensation, their spirits locked in the grip of murderous intent, as if their souls would scatter in the next second.
If ordinary people were present, they'd likely be overwhelmed by this aura, faltering before even facing battle, unable to muster thoughts of resistance.
But Shen Siyuan and the three little ones were certainly not ordinary people.
