The smoke of battle rose like a heavy curtain, filling every inch of space. The scent of blood and death intertwined, like an invisible net shrouding everyone and weaving a despairing haze. Zhang Yue brandished his longsword, which was already notched and chipped, each swing growing increasingly heavy. Sweat and blood mixed together, cascading down his resolute yet exhausted face to gather at his chin before dropping heavily onto the blood-soaked earth below. Anxiety and urgency flashed in his eyes. Although they had just successfully defeated Dark Lord Erse and dealt a heavy blow to the Shadow Cult, the enemy's numbers remained vast, and their assaults surged like a relentless tide, showing no signs of easing.
Nearby, Ziyan was casting magic with all her might, her hands dancing like butterflies as she chanted incantations. Each spell she released was like a shooting star streaking across the night sky, briefly illuminating the dark battlefield. Yet, the excessive depletion of her magical power left her body swaying precariously. Her once-ruddy lips were now as pale as paper, and her forehead was beaded with fine sweat.
"We can't go on like this; we must find a way to break the deadlock as soon as possible," Zhang Yue panted, his voice hoarse as he spoke to Ziyan. His gaze swept over the figures fighting bravely yet falling one after another across the battlefield, heightening the anxiety in his heart.
Chapter 93