Batian Martial Soul

In an instant, the black-robed demon king who had been confronting the white-robed man vanished into the void like dissipating black mist, disappearing without a trace.

The demonic energy surrounding him surged violently, like a raging black ocean, as if a storm about to devour the heavens and earth was brewing wildly.

Wherever the demonic energy reached, space was distorted beyond recognition, filled with a suffocating sense of oppression.

Every wisp of demonic energy carried the chill of the deepest hell, as if surging up from the very bottom of the underworld, dimming the surrounding stars as if they were terrified by this terrifying demonic energy.

Zheng!
A dark purple sword beam tore through the chaos like lightning, its speed so fast that no one had time to react.

Wherever it passed, space shattered like broken glazed tiles, emitting a series of sharp, crisp sounds, as if the world was wailing in pain.

Mysterious runes flowed across the sword's edge, shimmering with a chilling light. Each rune was like a flickering ghostly flame, radiating an eerie and terrifying aura that distorted the surrounding light into bizarre vortexes.

The sword light was incredibly fast, leaving a long afterimage in the void. Purple lightning crackled and sparked within the afterimage, as if countless purple dragons were roaring, or as if they were telling the story of the terrifying power of the sword light, inspiring fear in those who saw it.

Not far away, the white-clad man's previously composed expression suddenly changed. His already pale face became even more bloodless, as thin as a sheet of paper.

His pale pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints, his eyes filled with terror and horror.

He could clearly feel the destructive power contained in that dark purple sword light. That power was like a surging black tide, carrying endless death aura, as if it could completely devour everything in the world.

This power was enough to obliterate his physical body and soul, causing him to vanish from the world without leaving a trace.

The next moment, a strong will to survive surged in the white-clad man's heart. He transformed into a streak of light, moving so fast that it seemed to defy the constraints of time.

In the blink of an eye, he had retreated a thousand miles away, leaving behind a trail of dazzling starlight, like a shooting star streaking across the night sky, magnificent yet somewhat disheveled.

The shimmering white spiritual energy surrounding the man in white surged wildly, twisting and spinning like boiling water.

These spiritual energies quickly condensed on his body surface into a shield shimmering with golden Dao patterns. The Dao patterns on the surface of the shield flowed continuously, like mysterious runes dancing, exuding a sacred and majestic aura, as if it were a guardian from heaven.

Clearly, he was well aware of the power of the sword's edge and dared not be careless in the slightest, nor did he dare to directly confront this fierce sword strike.

The young demon king walked slowly, step by step, toward the man in white.

However, each of his steps covered a distance of tens of feet, as if the space beneath her feet had no obstacles at all.

His figure gradually became ethereal, like a thin veil fluttering in the wind, or like a wisp of smoke, ready to merge into the void at any moment, making him unpredictable.

At the same time, the energy in the chaotic void began to surge wildly, as if it were being stirred by an invisible hand.

Behind the young demon king, a huge phantom of a demon god gradually took shape.

This phantom of the demon god was incredibly tall, hundreds of feet high, like a majestic mountain standing in the void.

It opened its blood-red maw and let out a deafening roar, which struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer, making their hearts tremble.

The surrounding space trembled, and spatial cracks spread out like a spider web, as if the world was about to shatter in the roar.

Every hair on the demon god's phantom emitted a black light, a light as sharp as a tangible blade, making it impossible to look directly at.

Its eyes, like two blood moons, emitted an eerie and terrifying light, staring intently at the white-clad man in the distance, filled with boundless killing intent.

It seemed that as long as the young demon king gave the order, it would rush over without hesitation and tear the man in white to pieces.

Ling Xiao was extremely tense, his eyes fixed intently on the fierce battle unfolding before him, his tension like a taut string that could snap at any moment.

His palms were already soaked with sweat, and the sticky feeling made him unconsciously clench his fists.

He knew very well that the outcome of this battle was not merely a matter of the two people in front of him, but would profoundly affect the fate of the entire Great Town Dynasty.

If the man in white or the young demon king wins, the dynasty's structure and the safety of the people will undergo earth-shattering changes.

At this moment, his gaze was fixed on the white-clad man, as if drawn by a magnet.

The man in white was still retreating rapidly, his disheveled appearance a stark contrast to his previous composure.

Each time he retreated, his feet stomped heavily in the void, creating ripples in space.

The ripples spread out in concentric circles, like the ripples that appear when a boulder is thrown into a calm lake.

Wherever the ripples reached, the space became distorted and deformed. The originally regular lines seemed to be kneaded and grotesquely wrought by an invisible hand, becoming chaotic and disorderly.

Clearly, the man in white was still shaken by the young demon king's fierce and terrifying attack, and dared not slacken or linger for a moment.

Ling Xiao frowned, secretly speculating in his mind.

He knew that the young demon king's strength was unfathomable, and the various methods she had shown before were already astonishing, but he wondered if she had more hidden trump cards yet to be revealed.

At the same time, he was also pondering how the man in white would retaliate. The man in white's immortality and mysterious skills were like a fog, making him difficult to fathom.

Ling Xiao felt like a small boat in a storm, tossed about in the surging waves, about to be swallowed by the giant waves at any moment.

Suddenly, the young demon king, who had been pressing forward relentlessly, stopped in her tracks. Her tall figure stood firmly in the void, like an unshakeable mountain.

He slowly turned his head, his gaze fixed intently on the other side of the battlefield.

There, the Holy Dragon and the Peacock King are engaged in a thrilling battle.

The attacks from both sides collided like dazzling fireworks, bursting forth with brilliant light that illuminated the surrounding void as if it were daytime.

The Holy Dragon was enormous, resembling a moving mountain.

Its enormous tail swept across, creating a gust of wind that howled like a ferocious beast.

Wherever it passed, space was torn open, the openings resembling black abysses, seemingly capable of swallowing everything. (End of Chapter)