"It's the Rotting Blood Curse! Quickly, find cover!"
The allied soldiers hastily retreated, but dozens were still drenched in the blood rain, their skin instantly rotting as they fell to the ground in agony.
Ye Qingzhou remained calm and composed, his sword light spilling forth, forming a barrier of Original Force around him that vaporized the blood rain the moment it touched the silver-blue curtain. He looked up in the direction of the rising blood pillar.
There, Victor stood quietly.
The once-kind bishop was now entwined in black and red blood threads, the holy staff in his hand having transformed into a grotesque bone staff. His mouth stretched to his ears, revealing an inhuman sneer.
"Holy Sun? Heh..."
His voice sounded like the roar of hundreds of voices overlapping: "The world is nothing but a cage. Only by following the Eternal Night can one touch the truth and break free from the chains!"
