Hill stood solemnly at the forefront of Hongqiao, his silver armor baptized by moonlight, radiating a cold, fierce gleam.
He tightly gripped the Silver Sword, pressing its tip against the edge of space's void, while numerous dark shadow creatures attempted to erode and steal the precious faith energy leading to the Corridor of End.
But Hill did not shy away; every swing of his sword was accompanied by thunderous roars, his Sword Qi cutting through shadows like a winter's sharp blade, mercilessly eradicating the remnants of these shadow creatures, preventing them from advancing a single step.
"Here, no matter the cost, no malice is allowed to touch!"
At this moment, every member of the Witch Rider Corps stood firm, their expressions a mix of unwavering resolve and a hint of hidden fatigue, yet their eyes blazed with an unquenchable fire of hope.
