The pitch-black ship floated upon the sea. Vast enough to carry a thousand people, it was like some monstrous beast, coldly staring at Kunlun in the far distance.
Countless silent figures stood upon the sea behind the great ship. Dense as a forest, stretching beyond sight, most of them emitted entirely different fluctuations of magical power. Like the effeminate green-robed man aboard the ship, who did not know the identity of the grey-robed man enveloped in thick mist, most could only infer one another's origins from the magical power fluctuations radiating from those around them.
To some, certain magical power fluctuations were not unfamiliar; they could even be called familiar. The people emitting them might have been old friends, or perhaps enemies from long ago. Yet now, they had all come for the same enemy: Kunlun.
Every one of those countless figures, dense as a forest and stretching beyond sight, a sight that would shake anyone to the core, wore a red robe.
The countless identical red daoist robes made it seem as though a gigantic red carpet had been spread across the sea. Yet the waters beneath their feet trembled and roared beneath countless differing magical power fluctuations. Above their heads, masses of dark clouds churned and twisted, as if they were about to give birth to something unimaginably terrifying.
No one would have imagined that Kuang Wuxin had gathered such an enormous force.
The red figures standing on the sea behind the black ship no longer resembled a gathering of cultivators. They looked more like a massive army of the mortal world.
With so many people gathered here, even separated from Kunlun's outermost ring island by a thousand li, they would ordinarily have been discovered long ago. Given Kunlun's strength, it should have launched a devastating strike against