Their god had been publicly humiliated, their king assassinated during a sacred ritual, and their most holy altar destroyed in a single strike.
Bone-deep hatred and a frenzied lust for battle instantly devoured their sanity.
The dozens of members of the Eight-armed Race at the very front, closest to where Lin Ye had landed, roared and charged.
No one could understand what they were roaring, but Lin Ye knew it certainly wasn't a friendly greeting.
'They're probably spewing some nasty curses.'
In his peripheral vision, Lin Ye glanced up at the sheared-off chin of the idol above.
Vast quantities of Source Crystals and foul-smelling ichor poured out, cascading like a waterfall into the river of lava below and kicking up clouds of acrid white smoke.
But he didn't see any sign of the three students.
'I... should have saved them, right?'
The thought flashed through his mind in an instant.
The next moment, a deluge of arrows tore through the air, sealing off all his escape routes.
