Arriving at the heart of the Demon Clan's army, the masked figure finally stopped.
Looking at the imposing, fervent commanding members of the Demon Clan before him, there was no trace of fear in his eyes, only undisguised anger.
"Where is my daughter?"
"Here, she is fine." The Hill Giant, towering a hundred zhang tall, spoke with a voice as thunderous as a storm.
It extended a silver-gray hand larger than a house, within its palm lay a young girl whose eyes glistened with tears, collapsed on the ground. Upon seeing the masked figure, she cried out anxiously: "Father, save me, hurry and save me..."
"Xianxian!"
The masked man grew anxious and could not help but rush forward.
'Whoosh!'
A torrent of ghostly white flames suddenly descended upon the area a zhang ahead, melting the ground.
The masked man's robe was scorched out of shape, shriveling into a clump.
