The war between the Witch Clan and the Demon Clan was unceasing, with the light of various Divine Communication Skills streaking across the sky in brilliant arcs like fireworks, yet filled with the aura of death.
The sounds of slaughter gradually dissipated on the battlefield, filled everywhere with mountains of corpses and seas of blood, the stench of blood and decay stifling, even causing one's eyes to sting with pain.
Blood-stained swords and sabres lay crisscrossed on the ground, broken armors drove lifeless bodies, step by step, towards the abyss of death.
Some bodies were still burning, the fierce flames crackling, consuming their flesh and soul, silently snatching away their lives.
