After exterminating all the myriad-race powerhouses, John swept his gaze across the battlefield. After confirming that there were no survivors, he released the spatial imprisonment over this region.
Corpses covered the land.
John's expression remained indifferent, without the slightest ripple.
"A bunch of things that deserved to die."
The corpse of a Goshawkkin vanguard fell from the sky, still maintaining its arrogant posture, yet already devoid of life.
The broken fangs of an Earthborn powerhouse were buried in the soil, his death miserable beyond words. As for the other powerhouses of various races who had followed the tide and invaded, not a single one had been left with an intact corpse.
John wiped the blood from his wrist and sneered softly.
"They were nothing more than things here to deliver points, yet they actually dared come provoke me."
He knew very well that this was only the first wave of the Invasion of the Myriad Races.
