Bombarding Cultivators with Cluster Artillery

The breath of the Magic Flame Giant visibly collapsed, its strength plummeting drastically.

At this point in the battle,

Over twenty kings from the Horned Demon Imperial Clan had perished!

Some of them were from outside the Flame Stone Star Domain, serving as the Imperial Guards of the Cangkong Imperial Child, others were kings subjugated within the domain itself, like the Devil Flower King and the Overlord Blade King.

All of them were once famous and formidable figures on their own lands, within their own Minor Thousand Worlds, beings akin to the oldest ancestors of their families, with life spans of ten thousand years.

Yet, these strong individuals, on the battlefield, easily died like ants and chaff, unable to cause any ripples.

Now, the kings of the Horned Demon Imperial Clan withered away one after another, leaving only a few heavily injured kings like the Cangkong Imperial Child, and their resistance weakened to a nadir.

They watched the Blood-robed Taoist in the sky with terror.

Before, they could never have imagined dying at the hands of a Slave King, deeming the idea a nonsensical fantasy, a joke to be laughed off, treating the war as a hunting game.

However, now the tables had turned; those who fancied themselves as hunters were dying.

Boom!

In the sky, the Blood-robed Taoist, devoid of any expression, made a resplendent sanguine sun blossom in his hands, dropping another round of the blood sun from the heavens, its might undiminished, bombarding the dying enemy below.

”Could it be,”

”Swordsmanship truly belongs only to the Human Race?”

The Single-Horned Demon God’s voice was cold and low.

An undeniable fact was that his swordsmanship was indeed inferior to that of the Slave King.

But, why should this be?

He was an Ancient Imperial Son of the Cangyan Ancient Emperor Family, possessing the best resources of the Horned Ming Realm, raised from a young age by Great Emperors and Ancient Emperors, lavished with Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures, with access to the sealed teachings of emperors, all without any hardship.

With a single word from him, the vast Star Domain and beings from nearly a hundred Minor Thousand Worlds would tremble, sparing no effort to fulfill his commands, even if it meant casualties of millions — all for what might merely be a casual and playful thought from him.

His teachers, rivals, and stepping stones were all dragons and phoenixes among humans, elites of elites.

He himself was even more so — an Ancient Imperial Son from the Cangyan Ancient Emperor Family, unparalleled in talent across the Domain.

With all these conditions, how could he be defeated in sword art by a lowly Slave King?

Why?

What did this slave have?

His cultivation method resorted to Burning Essence Blood, he grew up wallowing in mud, never having enough to eat, expending Essence Blood and Mana every day besides Cultivation, refining resources for the Imperial Clan, already nearing the end of his life span of just over five thousand years, not living even half as long as an Imperial Clan king.

It was just by chance, he obtained an incomplete inheritance of the Ancient Divine Path’s sword art and acquired the mediocre slave emperor’s Cultivation Method ”Dao Heart Planting Demonic Slaves.”

What were these when compared to all he had?

Yet still, this Slave King possessed swordsmanship superior to his own — the Undying Sword Technique!

It was truly disheartening, even stirring demonic thoughts, causing his Dao Heart to waver, doubting sword art and knife techniques, the Acquired paths that seemed to belong solely to the Human Race. Other races, even the inherently strong Imperial Clan, could not reach the pinnacle due to a lack of intrinsic compatibility, born with flaws.

The Single-Horned Demon God’s thoughts surged in a single instant.

Boom!

Regardless of anything else, the blood sun in the sky suppressed everything below, slaughtering and incinerating everything.

”That’s right.”

”On this battlefield, Blood River King, you have indeed won.”

The Single-Horned Demon God’s gaze regained its coldness.

He reached out his hand and took out a primitive and worn scroll, unrolling it to reveal a small riverside village scene with an ink painting of a shepherd boy herding an old ox past the village.

This ink painting appeared so abruptly in the sky, surrounded by shattering and turbulent voids that couldn’t affect it in the least.

Boom!