As Rou Moyu finished speaking, Tie Zhenshan immediately followed up, saying, "Wan Youyu, it's time to put an end to this game!"

No sooner had he spoken than Tie Zhenshan suddenly roared, "Miss Yun, now!"

Yun Qianqian had been waiting on the periphery of the Brothers Alliance's territory for the signal, ready to arrive in an instant once it was given.

However, the signal had been sent long ago, yet Yun Qianqian had still not appeared. Tie Zhenshan concluded that Yun Qianqian must be hiding somewhere, observing in secret, waiting for Wan Youyu to reveal all his trump cards before delivering a fatal blow.

At this moment, although it was unclear if Wan Youyu had any other trump cards, they had reached a point where more than a dozen half-corpses with ten horizontal marks were beyond their ability to handle.

Even if Wan Youyu still had trump cards hidden, they would not be able to force them out.

The moment Tie Zhenshan's voice faded, twenty-six massive figures descended from the sky, each exuding a terrifying pressure.

The twenty-six figures, like meteorites falling to Tu'er, landed with a dull, thunderous sound that merged into one, encircling Wan Youyu and his half-corpse army.

The hard ground cracked in response, spiderweb-like fissures spreading wildly, and the stirred-up dust formed a thick smoke screen, only to be instantly pressed back to the ground by the invisible pressure emanating from their bodies, revealing their true forms.

The twenty-six figures, over ten meters tall, stood with an imposing aura, like ancient deities descending to the mortal realm.

At this moment, it was as if time itself had paused on the entire battlefield.

The god-like pressure instantly enveloped the entire scene, causing Wan Youyu and his half-corpse army to stop in their tracks. The once arrogant Wan Youyu's face suddenly turned pale, his eyes wide, revealing an expression of disbelief.

His lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to speak, but he ultimately couldn't utter a sound.

Mao Wudi and his two companions, along with the warriors behind them, all lowered their heads the moment these twenty-six figures descended, not daring to look up.

But Wan Youyu and his half-corpse army were not so lucky. As soon as the twenty-six figures landed, several extremely sharp surges of energy swept out, directly impacting the three half-corpses with ten horizontal marks beside Wan Youyu.

Half of those once aggressive and overbearing half-corpses were torn to shreds like paper in front of this power, turning into a sky full of severed limbs and bloody mist.

Wan Youyu's half-corpse army let out painful wails in unison, falling in large swaths like wheat swept by a hurricane.

This was not due to being attacked, but because—the Eyes of the Gods cannot be gazed upon directly!

Mao Wudi and his two companions knew this, and the 900 warriors behind them also understood, which is why they lowered their heads and closed their eyes immediately, showing reverence.

However, Wan Youyu and his half-corpse army failed to react in time, gazing directly at the god-like existences. Their minds suffered a severe impact, instantly falling into a state of severe injury and confusion.

Before the dust had fully settled, the twenty-six towering figures stood still as mountains, their invisible pressure like tangible water, heavily squeezing every inch of space on the battlefield.

The air seemed to solidify, even the dust stopped floating, leaving only the thick smell of blood and the stench of charred corpses lingering in the dead silence.

Wan Youyu knelt on the cracked Tu'er, his body violently convulsing like a candle flickering in the wind.

He had already been severely wounded by Mao Wudi, and then gazed directly into the Eyes of the Gods, adding injury upon injury. The blood flowing from his seven orifices was no longer fresh red, but a black-purple viscous liquid mixed with fragments of internal organs, winding down his twisted and swollen face, dripping onto the scorched Tu'er with a "sizzling" corrosive sound.

His proud, lava-like blood-colored corpse markings were now completely dim, like embers extinguished by sewage, leaving only faint, intermittent flickers that seemed ready to die out at any moment.

Broken meridians writhed like earthworms beneath his skin, each spasm forcing hoarse, tuneless screams from his shattered throat, filled with unspeakable pain and bone-deep terror.

The arrogance and brutality originating from his Corpse Clan bloodline were torn to shreds under the absolute crushing power, leaving only the most primitive, near-collapsing despair.

His two close associates and five half-corpses with eight half-slash marks beside him were in equally tragic conditions.

One confidant tried to support himself with his only intact arm, but the arm shattered into pieces the moment it touched the ground, like rotten dry branches;

The other curled up on the ground, the corpse markings on half of his body melting like a burning candle, revealing charred flesh and bone underneath.

Of the five powerful half-corpses, some had their heads bowed low, the eight half-slash marks on their foreheads blurred and festered as if corroded by strong acid, their crimson single eyes dim and lifeless, with only turbid tears mixed with blood flowing out;

Others let out uncontrollable, dying beast-like wails, their bodies spasming uncontrollably, their powerful physiques fragile and vulnerable under the divine pressure.

Their fundamental Corpse Clan power, on which they relied for survival, was completely suppressed and torn apart, their regeneration capabilities completely Failure, leaving them to helplessly feel their life force rapidly draining away.

The reason they were still alive was because Yun Qianqian had shown mercy, as half-corpses held significant research value, and Wan Youyu harbored a great secret.

The entire half-corpse army had long since collapsed.

Weaker half-corpses exploded after just one glance. The Eyes of the Gods are not to be gazed upon directly, let alone the Eyes of the Gods with murderous intent. The corpse soldiers and generals who fortunately did not die were like mud with their spines removed, collapsing to the ground, emitting incomprehensible guttural sounds or unconscious, fear-filled shrieks.

The oppressive feeling originating from the depths of their souls made it impossible for them to even look up; they could only bury their rotten heads deep in the mud, their bodies trembling like sieves.

The violent aura of the corpse tide that had swept the battlefield earlier was gone, replaced only by an impenetrable gloom of death and an aura of despair.

On the other side of the battlefield, Mao Wudi, Rou Moyu, Tie Zhenshan, and the nine hundred warriors behind them, though their heads were bowed and eyes tightly shut, still felt the vast, abyssal pressure permeate through the air, like cold tides crashing against the bulwarks of their souls.

The warriors' breathing became heavy and suppressed, and fine cold sweat seeped from their foreheads.

Even though they knew this pressure was not directed at them, the sense of insignificance and trepidation stemming from the difference in life levels still made their hearts feel as if they were being squeezed by an invisible hand. The air was heavy, like solidified mercury, and every breath was exceptionally difficult.

The newcomers were none other than Yun Qianqian and the thirteen Bixiao Guards she brought, as well as the Qing Ying Vanguard. Of course, Kong Ling, Huo Er, Ying Er, and Tu'er had always stayed close, firmly protecting Yun Qianqian.

After all, Yun Qianqian's own strength had only lit up three Lotus Seeds; any one of the half-corpses here could easily tear her apart.

Yun Qianqian lightly leaped from the shoulder of a Bixiao Guard, her lotus feet touching the ground without stirring up a speck of dust.

Her clean and neat attire was incongruous with the hellish scene of flying flesh and blood and scorched Tu'er around her, yet it carried a strange sense of purity that transcended the filth.

Her gaze was calm and unruffled, like a deep pool, slowly sweeping over Wan Youyu, who was prostrate on the ground, convulsing violently from pain and fear, and the several half-corpses with eight half-slash marks beside him, who were also on the verge of collapse.