With a sharp cry, Old Ancestor Xiaoxiao waved her delicate hand again and again, sending wave after wave of divine abilities crashing toward Mo Zhao. Her strikes rocked his massive body, sending Mo Blood spraying in all directions.
In mere moments, Mo Zhao's aura plummeted further, as if years of accumulated injuries had erupted all at once in this single instant, completely burying whatever majesty a King Master still possessed.
He had been able to hold his own against Old Ancestor Xiaoxiao to some degree before, but after the collapse of the Royal Master's Ink Nest, within a span of barely ten breaths, he no longer had the capital to contend with her.
Old Ancestor Xiaoxiao, on the other hand, grew more formidable with every exchange, her momentum surging as though she intended to strike him dead on the spot.
"Save me!" Mo Zhao roared in desperation, unable to withstand the onslaught.
If no one came to his aid, he might truly be beaten to death by this human Old Ancestor.
And there was only one person he could call upon—the Ninth-Order Ink Servant currently tangled in combat with multiple Eighth-Order masters!
His battlefield alongside Old Ancestor Xiaoxiao was one that only this Ninth-Order Ink Servant could intervene in.
This Ninth-Order Ink Servant possessed truly fearsome strength. Even with six Eighth-Order masters joining forces to fight him, they could not gain the upper hand. Instead, they were being pressed into a corner, and three among them had already sustained injuries, blood flowing freely.
Hearing Mo Zhao's cry for help, the Ninth-Order Ink Servant's long sword swept outward, unleashing boundless sword energy that forced the six Eighth-Order fighters to retreat. He flashed toward Mo Zhao's position in an instant.
He had noticed the collapse of the Royal Master's Ink Nest as well. He knew the Ink Clan's grand cause was lost today and that this place could not be held any longer. In the current situation, only by joining forces with Mo Zhao would the two of them have any hope of escape.
But his hopes were one thing—would the human Eighth-Order masters simply let him have his way?
They were all veterans of countless battles. At a moment like this, how could they allow their enemy to disengage so easily? The instant he tried to pull back, they pressed in once more, unleashing their divine abilities and secret techniques, manifesting their Dharma Idols, all to keep the Ninth-Order Ink Servant entangled.
Six Eighth-Order masters, in this moment, were fighting with everything they had, determined to hold the enemy in place regardless of any injuries they might suffer.
The clash between these two top-tier combatants raged on without pause.
Over at the Royal City, after destroying the Royal Master's Ink Nest, Yang Kai immediately opened his mouth and roared: "The Royal Master's Ink Nest has been destroyed! The Ink Clan will be annihilated!"
His voice shook the heavens and echoed in every direction.
The chaotic battlefield froze for a single eerie heartbeat. Both human and Ink Clan warriors seemed to need a moment to process this earth-shattering news.
The next instant, countless shouts merged into a tidal wave that shook the void.
"The Ink Clan will be annihilated!"
"The Ink Clan will be annihilated!"
"The Ink Clan will be annihilated!"
...
The human army's momentum surged like a rainbow.
In stark contrast, the Ink Clan forces descended into turmoil.
In truth, with the two armies locked in fierce combat across such a chaotic battlefield, very few had noticed what was happening at the Royal City. Neither the humans nor the Ink Clan knew that the Royal Master's Ink Nest had been destroyed—until Yang Kai shouted it for all to hear. The Ink Clan refused to believe it.
But at that very moment, the Royal Master's own cry for help rang out, and every surviving Ink Clan member was consumed by grief and dread.
The Royal Master's Ink Nest really had been destroyed? If not, why would the Royal Master so readily cry out for help?
Morale crumbled.
After such prolonged fighting, both sides had suffered enormous casualties. Yet the Ink Clan still had the strength to fight. If they had remained united, the humans might not have achieved their goal so easily—they might have won, but it would have been a pyrrhic victory.
But now, the Ink Clan's ranks were in complete disarray, their minds too fractured to focus on fighting. Not only the low-ranking Ink Clan soldiers felt this way—even the Domain Lords had begun harboring thoughts of fleeing.
Many Domain Lords' Ink Nest had been destroyed, robbing them of the ability to draw power from within. Across the battlefield, the deaths of Domain Lords rang out one after another. While some Eighth-Order auras had faded as well, the Domain Lords were dying in far greater numbers.
The Royal Master probably couldn't hold on much longer. Once the Royal Master fell, they would be next. After all these years of war between the two races, fueled by oceans of blood and enmity, none of them harbored any illusions that the humans would show mercy and let them go.
With such thoughts taking root, the surviving Domain Lords had no will left to continue fighting. Yet the more they wavered, the worse their situation became.
The collapse of the Royal Master's Ink Nest seemed to serve as a trigger, and the battlefield's momentum shifted rapidly in the humans' favor.
Even the elite squads, which had been pummeled by three Domain Lords, finally caught a reprieve.
The Old Turtle Squad and two other elite squads had each been pinning down a single Domain Lord. They had been driven back steadily, their warships sustaining damage, and in another few moments they might have been forced to withdraw. Continued entanglement would have meant casualties, and their warships risked being destroyed—leading to total annihilation.
But now those three Domain Lords had lost the will for a fight to the death. Each had begun holding back, preparing to flee.
Chai Fang and the others would not stand idly by. They fought desperately to keep the Domain Lords from slipping away, a tactic that infuriated the three opponents to no end.
Across the entire battlefield, the humans advanced triumphantly, cutting through the Ink Clan ranks and sending them scattering in disarray.
But back at the Royal City, Yang Kai was in a world of hurt.
The moment he had roared out that proclamation with such imposing momentum, he had felt years of pent-up frustration drain away—but his satisfaction lasted barely a moment before Chekong, face grim and killing intent radiating from every pore, came barreling toward him.
In this exchange, Chekong held nothing back, pushing his peak Domain Lord strength to its absolute limit. Even after Yang Kai transformed into a seven-thousand-zhang Ancient Dragon, he was battered relentlessly—dragon scales ripped away, dragon bones cracking, one eye nearly caved in by a devastating blow.
Yang Kai strongly suspected that this fellow's Ink Nest was still intact, that he hadn't managed to destroy it. Otherwise, how could Chekong possibly unleash such terrifying power?