Some incomprehensible strange events have occurred.
The number of compatriots is visibly dwindling. Logically, the first batch of Holy Spirits torn apart by the artillery should have returned to the battlefield by now...
The Holy Spirit wandering at the edge of the battlefield was somewhat confused and puzzled, and then it vaguely heard a voice calling.
'No... no... you can't do this...'
A few fearful and humble weak pleas echoed in its ears.
The Holy Spirit felt inexplicably uneasy. In its past life, it was a politician greedy beyond measure, and seeking benefits while avoiding harm had already become its instinct.
It dodged the Blasphemer's artillery attack, looking for the source of the voice, and eventually, it stopped in front of a broken Holy Robe.
A dim Eternal Embryo was writhing under the robe.
'Take me away! Quickly! They are coming! They are about to come!!'
