The remaining Tier Six Spiritualists were utterly panicked. They didn't even dare to stand still anymore and frantically fled in different directions, trying to use movement to dodge the bullets.
But it was useless—no matter how they dodged, the lethal bullet always found them. The Spirit Shield was like a facade in front of the bullet.
"Lord Alaya, save me!" a Tier Six Spiritualist shouted in despair as he fled, his eyes full of hopelessness.
They could accept dying under spells or martial techniques.
But to be sniped from afar by a "toy gun," without even seeing the enemy's shadow—such a way to die was the ultimate humiliation to their dignity.
Alaya's face grew increasingly ugly, even twisted and fierce.
