The Divine Martial Corps didn't have time to react before a massive explosion occurred.
In almost an instant, countless members of the Divine Martial Corps were dead or injured, leaving less than thirty percent of the soldiers capable of continuing the fight. Among the ruins lay severed limbs, and many demons writhed on the ground, screaming in agony.
Looking at the completely routed Divine Martial Corps, the Divine Martial King felt an icy cold permeate his body, leaving him breathless.
He had a feeling he had never experienced before, as if the world had become somewhat fantastical.
A strike bolstered by twenty thousand Sixth Sense demons was split by a single saber, a reality so surreal.
Absurd, exaggerated, unreal—anyway, the Divine Martial King found it difficult to accept such a result.
What was supposed to be a battle duel between two armies was shattered by just one person.
