"Demon Art! You are a demon! Demon!"
On the deck of the treasure ship.
Covered in bloodstains and wearing a gray robe turned into strips, the old Nascent Soul Realm elder's face was like it had been scraped across thorns hundreds of times, now lying there shouting constantly.
Beside him was an unconscious middle-aged man, considered the second strongest among them.
Above the treasure ship, the not-so-intense battle continued, though it had entered the closing stage.
Clad in an immortal dress, Amina stood in the sky dome with a sword, a light curtain behind her, surrounded by starlight, locking several beams on those still able to move, fixing them gradually in mid-air.
Her approach was simple and direct, yet carried a trace of mysterious Rule Power.
Amina gently rotated the sword in her hand, lightly tapping forward, with several regular hexahedrons flashing behind her.
