Perhaps it was because everyone was too preoccupied with the desperate struggle to save their own lives, but Xiao Ming's words went unheard, his voice drowned out by the sounds of clashing weapons and frantic cries.
The cultivators were fully invested in their own survival, their domains and barriers flaring to life as they attempted to withstand the relentless onslaught of weapons raining down upon them.
Some even went so far as to layer their defenses, transposing their domains and barriers to create more sophisticated protective covers, hoping to buy themselves a few precious moments of safety.
But they had all underestimated the situation. The rain of weapons showed no signs of stopping, even after twenty minutes had passed.
Instead of lessening in intensity, it only grew fiercer, the influx of lethal weapons now accompanied by strands of weapon essence, predominantly of the metal attribute.