A World Drenched in Blood

The sky was a turbulent canvas of dark clouds, streaked with red as if painted with the blood of the fallen. The ground beneath was a landscape of horror-charred earth mixed with the mangled bodies of the dead. Rivers of blood flowed through the battlefield, turning the soil into a muddy, crimson mire. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, a testament to the massacre that had just taken place.

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At the center of this hellish scene stood Xian Wu, his black robes fluttering in the gusts of wind. His face was splattered with blood, not all of it his own. His eyes, cold and calculating, gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as he surveyed the carnage around him. This was his doing, the result of his relentless pursuit of power and revenge.