Colorless scars remained everywhere the forest fire had passed.
Even though an entire day had already gone by, residual heat still rose like a shimmering haze. Heavenly Sword Mountain, collapsed beneath a blanket of gray ash, resembled a gravestone in and of itself.
No, perhaps that was not even a metaphor.
The mountain was practically an enormous cemetery now.
The previous battle had left at least dozens dead or wounded.
The demon that appeared from below the mountain had ravaged a mysterious martial sect with thousands of years of history for half a day. Before such one-sided and thorough violence, the practitioners of the Sword Circle had been utterly powerless.
There had been only three skilled fighters capable of putting up any meaningful resistance.
They were the Sword Circle instructors who guarded each hall.
But even their expressions were far from bright, and the reason was simple.
Dozens of their disciples had burned and fallen before their very eyes.
Some had also seen people precious to them left in critical condition.
Far from being emotionally unharmed, it would have been more natural for them to suffer beneath their own helplessness.
The forest fire had not left…