"Did I hear that right? The Crimson Empress just called that man her 'Master'!" the cultivators gasped in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"One!" Yuan suddenly started counting down.
"Fuck! Are we really going to leave? What about those who had perished before us?!"
Some cultivators hesitated to leave. To them, retreating now felt like a betrayal—an insult to the countless comrades who had already fallen. If they turned their backs, it would be as though their companions' sacrifices had been for nothing.
"Two!" Yuan continued to count.
"Stay here if you want, but I'm out of here!" one shouted. "If you'd rather waste your life like the others, be my guest!"
Many cultivators didn't hesitate. To them, the dead mattered little compared to their own survival, and they refused to be counted among those who'd already fallen.
In the blink of an eye, the majority of the remaining cultivators fled.
"Three!"
