Roughly three hours later, the guardian spirits defending the area had been slain by the group batch after batch, yet their numbers seemed to decrease rather than increase.
Qingling continuously wielded the Spirit Mystic Sword in her hand, two distinct laws intertwining around her. Her Mystic Power was being consumed at an enormous rate; her delicate face was slightly pale, and fine beads of sweat trickled down her features, which looked as though they had been naturally crafted by elves.
"This won't do! If we keep going like this, we'll be worn down and killed here."
Chapter 420