Chapter 13825 The Lord's Regret

The faces of the powerful men of the Holy Temple still showed the calmness and arrogance of the previous moment, but the next second they were filled with fear. The look of fear was like a frozen picture, remaining on their faces forever.

Then, the sword light mercilessly enveloped them.

In an instant, a violent force swept over with devastating force, like a hurricane that was devastating the world.

The blood-red armor they wore, which symbolized the glory and strength of the temple, crumbled like fragile tiles in the face of this force; their protective auras also shattered and dissipated easily like bubbles in the sun.

The dull thud of heads hitting the ground rang out continuously, like a heavy death knell.

The bodies of more than a dozen powerful men from the Holy Temple fell down stiffly, like puppets with their souls taken away.

Blood gushed out from their necks like a fountain, instantly dyeing the ground a shocking scarlet.

Their eyes were not yet closed, the terrifying black light was reflected in their pupils, and their faces were frozen with expressions of disbelief, as if they could not believe until their death that they could be defeated so easily.

The entire battlefield fell into silence at this moment, as if time had stopped flowing.

Only the humming of the Black Sky Sword echoed in the void. The sound was low and sad, as if it was playing a dirge for this brutal massacre.

This shocking sword exhausted all of Ling Xiao's strength.

His face suddenly turned as pale as paper, bloodless, like a lifeless statue.

A large amount of black blood overflowed from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin and splashing strange blood flowers on the ground.

His body swayed, like a candle in the wind, and he almost fell to the ground.

An extreme feeling of weakness surged from deep within his limbs and bones, like a ferocious beast gnawing at his body.

His meridians felt as if they were burned by a raging fire. The pain was unbearable, and every breath seemed to tear at his soul.

Even the fingers holding the sword were shaking uncontrollably, as if they were out of his control.

However, even in such a weak state, he still managed to hold himself back from falling.

His eyes still flashed with burning murderous intent, which was like a burning flame that would never go out: "But it doesn't mean we can't fight again."

His voice, though weak, was full of firmness and determination.

He knew very well that although the Demon Lord's Black Sky Sword was extremely powerful and could be called a peerless divine weapon, it also caused great damage to the user.

If he used this power once again, his meridians would probably be broken, and he would become a useless person, with no place to stand in this world anymore.

So, he endured the severe pain in his body, mobilized the last bit of his strength, and quickly took the Black Sky Sword into his body.

Then, he quickly formed seals with his hands and performed the Heaven-Swallowing Demonic Art.

As he moved, a dark vortex rose up around him. The vortex was like a bottomless abyss, emitting a terrifying aura.

At this moment, the blood essence of the dozen or so powerful men in the Holy Hall seemed to be pulled by some mysterious force and turned into blood lines, like nimble little snakes, converging towards Ling Xiao.

These blood lines intertwined and swirled in the air, and were eventually swallowed up by the dark vortex.

As the essence and blood entered his body, a tremendous amount of energy surged through his body, like surging waves, hitting his meridians.

His aura continued to rise, and the energy of the Tianhe Realm condensed into substance in his dantian, forming a huge energy vortex.

The power contained in the vortex was so strong that it was suffocating, as if it could break through his body at any time, allowing him to make a qualitative leap and be just one step away from a breakthrough.

However, Ling Xiao forced himself to practice his skills to suppress the power that was about to explode.

There was a flash of determination in his eyes. Deep down in his heart, he had his own persistence and considerations.

Even at such a critical moment of life and death and in such a difficult situation, he did not want to break through casually, because he knew very well how precious the benefits brought by the Nine Revolutions of Reincarnation were, and they must not be wasted.

As the energy was continuously absorbed, Ling Xiao's face gradually regained its rosy color, just like the clear sky after the rain, and it was full of vitality again.

His breathing also became steady, no longer as disordered as before.

He slowly raised his head and stared coldly at the Ice and Flame Saints and the one-eyed old monster who were fighting with the Shadow Demon.

The corner of his mouth curled up into a hideous sneer, which was full of ridicule and murderous intent.

At this moment, the demonic energy around him began to boil again, like a raging black flame, burning wildly.

The murderous intent spread like a substance, forming an invisible pressure in the air and distorting the surrounding space.

Kill! Keep killing! These two words, like a curse, kept echoing in his mind.

Today, he is determined to destroy this once invincible temple!

At this moment, Ling Xiao's eyes were filled with endless murderous intent, and that murderous intent seemed to be able to burn the entire world.

He was like a revengeful ghost from the Netherworld, emitting a terrifying aura that made people shudder.

"You dare!" The voice of the Holy Lord of the Temple came from the other end of the battlefield, full of anger and fear.

His face was distorted by rage, his facial features were almost squeezed together, his eyes were red, like a mad beast, as if he wanted to eat Ling Xiao alive.

At this moment, the holy temple had suffered heavy losses and all its elite troops were lost under Ling Xiao's frenzied attack.

The absolute advantage that once surpassed other forces disappeared in such a short period of time.

The Holy Lord of the Temple was filled with anger and fear. He had never thought that an existence regarded as an ant by them could bring such a heavy blow to the Temple.

The Holy Lord's nails dug deeply into his palms, and the sharp pain was unable to soothe the resentment in his heart.

The bright red blood slowly seeped out from between the fingers, spreading across the snow-white robe, like an alluring red plum blossom blooming in the dark night, shocking to the eye.

He stared at his hands that were blocked by the Green Spirit Sword, as if the sword was the most vicious curse in the world. A dull growl like a trapped beast came from his throat, full of unwillingness and resentment.

He hated it! This hatred was like the boiling magma deep underground, surging wildly in his chest, almost burning his internal organs to ashes.

In a trance, the tragic scene of the elite soldiers of the Holy Temple lying dead all over the ground emerged in front of his eyes. Those loyal disciples who had followed him in battles in the past were now lying in a pool of blood like broken puppets.

Their pupils were still filled with the fear and unwillingness before death; those empty eyes seemed to be silently accusing the injustice of fate.

The green spirit's attack was like a tide, as dense as a summer rainstorm.

Every time the sword in his hand was swung, it tore through the air, making a sharp sound of breaking through the air.