Batian Martial Soul

Chapter 14076 The Old Man with a Lantern

The once ferocious and terrifying faces of those trolls and monsters were now filled with extreme terror, their huge bodies trembling uncontrollably, as if they had witnessed the most horrifying sight in the world.

The remaining followers behind the young demon king were already terrified by the previous battle.

At this moment, their eyes widened and their mouths gaped open, yet they couldn't utter a sound, as if their souls had been ripped from their bodies.

Their eyes were filled with despair and helplessness, as if they had already foreseen their tragic fate.

The remnant soul of a powerful being, which had just struggled out of the temporal turbulence, was fluctuating violently, teetering on the brink of collapse like a candle in the wind.

His once ethereal face was now filled with horror, as if he couldn't believe what was happening before his eyes.

In the distance, the God of Burning Hell, who was almost drained by Ling Xiao, was also shocked by this sudden change and his eyes widened.

His withered lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to make a sound, but in the end he could only let out a weak whimper filled with endless fear.

The hearts of all living beings were suddenly gripped as if by an invisible, cold, death-scalding giant claw!
Squeeze it tight!

The giant claw was so powerful that it seemed to crush their hearts, causing them to perish in endless fear.

A chill originating from the deepest part of the soul swept across the entire battlefield like a surging tide.

It froze the blood, making every living being feel their body grow cold and stiff; it froze their thoughts, leaving their minds blank and unable to think of anything; it froze all movement, making them stand silently like statues on this bloody battlefield.

Creepy!

Bone-chilling cold!

This fear transcends the realm of words; it is like a tangible darkness, enveloping the hearts of every living being and causing them to experience an unprecedented despair.

Because there's nobody there!
There was no divine sense whatsoever!

There are no secret techniques!

We sensed any presence approaching!
There wasn't a single ripple in the space, as if this space had never been broken; there wasn't a trace of energy dissipation, as if that being didn't need any energy to appear here.

That sound seemed to have existed since the very beginning of this void, a sigh emanating from this desolate star field itself, carrying an ancient and mysterious aura that inspired awe and fear.

who is it? !
This question flashed through the mind of every living being like lightning.

Countless gazes, a mixture of extreme horror and near-death terror, were drawn together as if by an invisible magnet, instantly tearing through space and focusing intently.

Their eyes were filled with longing and fear—longing to know the identity of that mysterious being, yet fearing that being would bring them annihilation.

Just a step away to the right of the young demon king, in a fold of void, a person had silently appeared.

The man stood tall and straight, like a majestic mountain peak, standing there quietly, as if he had merged with the void.

The powerful aura emanating from him made every living being feel a deep sense of oppression.

He was a withered old man, like a piece of dead wood gnawed away by the relentless passage of time, carrying a sense of decay and desolation after experiencing endless vicissitudes.

He was wearing a gray cloth robe that had long been washed until it was faded and white, and whose edges were worn like withered leaves falling in the autumn wind.

The style of the robe was more ancient than imagined, as if it came from an era long forgotten by the world and buried by the river of history. Every fold seemed to hide an ancient story that no one knew.

His long, gray-white hair was haphazardly draped over his shoulders, almost obscuring half of his face, making it difficult to see his true features.

What was most astonishing was the object he held in his hand: an extremely ancient and unusual bronze lamp.

The lamp's surface is covered with mottled green rust, those rust marks like scars left by time, deeply and shallowly engraved on the bronze, as if telling the story of the long years it has experienced.

At the wick, a tiny, pale blue flame, no bigger than a soybean and so weak it seemed as if it might be swallowed up and extinguished by this raging world at any moment, flickered silently.

The flames were so dim that they were almost negligible in the bloody, chaotic, and energy-ravaged battlefield, yet they carried a mysterious and eerie aura, as if they contained endless secrets.

He stood there with his back hunched over, his body slightly leaning forward, as if the burdens of life weighed him down, making him unable to straighten up, or like an old scavenger lost in the vast depths of the starry sky, lonely and helpless.

He carried the flickering lamp, his steps slow and heavy, each step seemingly treading on the strings of time, as he walked toward the center of this chaotic battlefield.

He stood there quietly, his withered fingers gripping the lamp handle tightly, as if it were his only support in the world.

His face was like a mask of rock weathered over millennia, etched with the furrows of time. The wrinkles, as if carved by a knife and axe, each recorded the trials and tribulations he had experienced.

His expression was blank and lifeless, as if the years had worn away his heart, leaving him numb to everything in the world.

The scene before me was like hell.

Corpses floated in the blood, rising and falling slowly with the energy fluctuations, like a lone boat adrift in a sea of ​​death; mountains crumbled, huge rocks flying everywhere like meteors, raising clouds of dust; the energy raged wildly, like a runaway horse, rampaging through this space, destroying everything in its path.

All of this, along with the faint, flickering blue flame in his lamp, seemed to exist in two completely different worlds that would never intersect.

The eerie blue flames, quiet and peaceful, stood in stark contrast to the bloody and chaotic battlefield, as if they were a projection of another world.

At this moment, his eyes, hidden behind his disheveled gray hair, were as calm as two ancient wells that swallowed all light, deep and unfathomable, without a ripple.

Those eyes seemed to hold the secrets of the entire universe, yet also seemed to hold nothing at all, simply gazing quietly at Luo Qianchen's profile, as if scrutinizing this powerful and mysterious woman, or as if looking through her to a more distant place.

The silent standoff, like a war without gunpowder but more brutal than any battle, quietly spread across the battlefield.

The deathly silence, thick as a tangible darkness, was more suffocating than the deepest nothingness, completely engulfing the entire battlefield.