The headless python that was the Great Shaman’s Avatar was still flailing in the air. It was just an instinctive response, though. Its destruction was inevitable.

Wei Yuan put away the dead branch and carelessly stuck it to the ground of the Great Realm—but not the most fertile land where it was originally planted.

Finally receiving the order to stop, the scions halted their attacks and looked as white as a sheet. They were so tired they were just shy of sticking out their tongues and panting like dogs. Fortunately, as shoddy as their skills were, they had attacked long and hard enough to accumulate some damage.

Dark green blood were dripping everywhere on the battlefield. The land was originally fertile, but the Shamans’ fresh blood had turned it into an ashen wasteland.

Tens of thousands of Shaman corpses were scattered across the battlefield at the moment. It was a horrifying sight. A lot less human cultivators were standing on their feet compared to the start of the battle. On the flanks, Xiao Yu was returning with ninety or so cultivators....