Two hours later.
The battleground of Yi Lin and five cultivators.
Dozens of figures, arriving in different batches from different directions.
Their silhouettes shimmered with colors, spiritual energy gathered, their movement like thunder, aura like a gale.
Dozens of figures arrived at nearly the same time.
Four groups in total, each hovering in the sky.
The four groups did not greet one another, keeping a cautious distance after a moment of distant eye contact, then they looked down at the valley ravaged by battle.
Here lay not a single soul, with black smoke rising from deep pits turning the flat valley into a pitted landscape; bodies lay across the craters left by explosions, dead with open eyes.
"That monster is truly savage."
A middle-aged Taoist in a fiery red robe, with disciplined features and neatly trimmed mustaches, frowned as he sensed spiritual energy still lingering in the air, murmuring in awe before suddenly gasping as he landed beside one of the bodies.
