The cold wind whistled, and the falling rain turned to ice.
At the entrance of the alley, a thick scent of blood pervaded and intertwined, striking the nostrils with its intensity.
Cao Qingyuan galloped into action, his vigorous qi and blood whipping the air, emitting a mournful, whistling sound as he landed at the mouth of the alley, catching the scent of blood before even stepping inside.
The ground was in disarray, with many of Fei Lei City's bluestone streets covered in cracks, traces of the aftermath of battle still present, indicating the ferocity of the fight.
He stepped into the alley.
Beneath his feet, it was not rainwater he trod upon, but a thick, sanguine liquid.
How much blood had been spilled to dye the accumulated water red!
When Cao Qingyuan saw the corpse of the Divine Base Cultivator from the Yang Family, Yang Jing, his complexion turned ghastly pale.
Even he, who was accustomed to dead bodies, couldn't help feeling a surge of emotion at this moment.