"Puchi!"
Blood splattered onto the cracked ground as a Nascent Soul cultivator coughed violently, clutching his chest. "Damn it…! Why is there still no response from the Sword Saint Heaven?"
Another elder sneered, though his trembling hands betrayed his fear. "Maybe the Sword Saint Heaven has already escaped like the others. Tell me—who in their right mind would stay behind to face that abomination? If I were them, I'd be halfway across the continent by now."
His words fell like stones into water—no one rebuked him.
For a brief moment, every Nascent Soul expert there wore the same expression of reluctant agreement. Pride demanded silence, but in their hearts, they all knew the truth: if given the chance, they too would have fled.
Then, without warning, the heavens shuddered.
