The entire battlefield fell into a suffocating, deathly silence.
For a brief moment, no one dared to step forward.
The Demon Suppression Great Daoist had already demonstrated the price one had to pay to kill an Upper Realm enemy of the same cultivation realm.
Even after burning his life essence and sacrificing everything he possessed, he only managed to drag a single Perfect Half Immortal down with him.
And yet, the Upper Realm still possessed countless powerhouses.
What could they possibly accomplish?
The remaining cultivators of the Lower Realm stood amidst the ruins, their expressions pale and their auras unstable.
Some clenched their fists until their fingernails pierced their palms, while others lowered their heads, unable to look directly at the woman standing before them.
The difference in strength was simply too great.
Even if they were willing to die, what meaning would their deaths have?
