Some had their hands stained, some had their mouths stained, and some were drenched head to toe in blood.
The crimson blood was as conspicuous in the entirely gray world as a beacon in the night.
Now Wen Yan understood why the lost souls never mistook their target.
Even if separated by a great distance, they could see and feel it clearly.
At this moment, in the Southeast, a pillar of blood-red light stood between heaven and earth, resembling a cascading waterfall of blood touching the sky, its mere glow illuminating the sky there and dyeing it red.
All the lost souls turned simultaneously, the long river surged, circled once, and rushed toward that direction with great speed.
It had to be where the culprit was located, and as the number of lost souls exceeded a million, refined by thunder, undergoing qualitative change, the greatest mark of hatred could no longer be hidden.
