Sui Qingfeng stood outside the restriction, straight as a pine. His sleeves fluttered without wind, and the unique magical power fluctuations of a Late Stage Golden Immortal circulated around him, spreading outward like ripples across water. The surrounding cultivators unconsciously stepped back half a pace, leaving an open circle around him.
His gaze swept over the Xuanwu Warship hovering in midair, and his voice rang out again, calm yet carrying unquestionable weight.
"Fellow Daoist inside, I am Sui Qingfeng. Entrusted by the fellow cultivators here, I am temporarily overseeing the breaking of this restriction. We have taken turns wearing away at this restriction for more than half a year, and only the final steps remain before it opens. If you are willing to join forces, then once the restriction is broken, the treasures within may be divided according to each person's contribution."
Once he finished speaking, he waited quietly for more than ten breaths. The Xuanwu Warship remained suspended in the air without the slightest response. Not even a crack opened.
Sui Qingfeng's gaze darkened. The courteous curve remained on his lips, but his voice had already taken on a chill. "With such behavior, do you take us all for fools, waiting here only to make wedding clothes for others?"
Low murmurs rose from the crowd. Several cultivators exchanged looks; some shook their heads, while others curled their lips.
"Which sect's warship is that? I've never seen such an enormous Xuanwu puppet."
"What airs."
"It may be from the Demon Court..."
The whispers were scattered and faint, like wind passing through grass. Sui Qingfeng heard them but did not stop them. He needed those voices, that undercurrent of restless emotion. Just as he drew breath and prepared to say something more—
A wave of pressure descended without warning.
Sui Qingfeng's