The heroes of Xiong Ying were like fierce tigers descending from the mountains, with an aggressive and swift attack, resembling a wild wind scattering fallen leaves or a surging tide, unstoppable in force.
Their weapons gleamed with a chilling light, and each swing carried with it a force of immense power.
The villains of the Old Wolf Stronghold could not withstand this overwhelming assault, and they let out piercing screams.
The screams intertwined, sounding like a mournful dirge, echoing in the space between heaven and earth.
One by one, the villains fell, their bodies twisting, and blood gushing forth from their wounds.
Blood flowed freely on the ground, converging into rivers of crimson, staining the land a shocking red. At a glance, it appeared as an endless sea of blood. The air was thick with the stench of blood, nauseating.
The villains of the Old Wolf Stronghold were nearly annihilated, leaving only a few scrambling in confusion.
