The slaughter continued as a crimson glow flickered in Andrew's eyes.

The eight martial kings from the Driscoll family's allied forces saw the situation turning dire and began fleeing for their lives.

Andrew snorted coldly and leaped over the crowd. With a single palm strike, he crushed the nearest martial king, painting the gates with blood.

George and the others were excited, with even crueler satisfaction on their faces. The fall of one powerhouse inevitably meant the rise of another.