In the air, floating ghostly blue Dao fire waterfalls pour down like a starry river, casting the battlefield in flickering shadows; from the ground crevices surge purple-black resentment, condensing into twisted ghostly vortices, which occasionally morph into the remnants of fallen warriors, howling as they repeat their combat movements from life.
On a distant cliff, an ancient Spirit Tree, soaked in Immortal Demon Blood, roots itself in a pile of corpses, with blood-jade-like fruits hanging from its branches—a reputed transformation of Immortal Demon Essence, consuming it could resist the corrosive hostility of the battlefield, yet it also attracts countless greedy contenders.
Si Lingle and her group had just stepped into the battlefield's core when the ground suddenly shattered, and several hundred Corpse Puppets broke through the soil.
