End of the First War

Sixteen interconnecting lines of burning bullets dissected the Nascent Soul Stage Cultivator's soul like jigsaws!

Hellsword screamed miserably and struggled hard. A waning voice echoed from the writhing ghost.

"Immortality… Immortality… Immortality…"

However, the feeble voice was eclipsed by the roaring bullets. It was like a tiny spark that was overwhelmed by an enormous tide.

The fire of Hellsword's soul shrank and diminished at a visible speed until it was thinner than ever.

One minute later, Li Yao stopped shooting.

Huala!

The floor of the upper level could not withstand the barrage and collapsed, raising a storm of dust.

Gloomily, Li Yao carried the gun on his shoulder as he paced slowly in the debris, searching.

Suddenly, he halted and gazed at several broken bricks in the debris with a cruel smile.

His spiritual energy swept over and dragged out the remaining soul that was no larger than a cockroach.