Lost
A mighty pressure, like a jeweled canopy and overcast clouds, hung over everyone's heads.
His fiery red beard and hair whipped wildly.
The formidable aura of a late-stage Spirit Transformation Venerable spread out with savage force.
Like floodwaters pouring from the blue heavens, like mountains and earth collapsing.
In an instant, the vast sea roiled against lofty mountains, stirring ten thousand layers of raging waves.
Miao Ran's eyes, blazing like fiery suns, swept over them indifferently. Patterns emerged around his hands, and half-arm guards appeared over both arms.
Then he said, "It is only natural that you all wish to enter the Tiger Tomb in search of opportunities. But you must first weigh your own strength. If you wish to set foot in the Tiger Tomb, ask these iron fists of mine first."
Boom!
His fist shot forth, and the void trembled.
After witnessing Miao Ran's divine strength, one of the old men immediately took his juniors and flew away without a second thought.
With someone taking the lead, several other cultivators who knew themselves to be somewhat weaker also swiftly withdrew.
Since those five had already formed an alliance and were all disciples of great sects, whether they were lone cultivators or had weak forces behind them, they could not compete with them.
Perhaps they would fail to obtain the Dao Body and even place their own lives in danger.
They might as well retreat in the face of difficulty now. At most, this was merely an opportunity meant to cultivate the younger generation.
Feilai Jun, clad in a long robe, nodded slightly, seemingly very satisfied with everyone's tact.
His gentle eyes swept past them, yet a trace of puzzlement surfaced in them. Why were there still people unafraid of death standing here? And not merely one, but