Along the road that followed, Elder Ji, who had personally killed more than a dozen Corpse Cultivators from Corpse Valley, was in a panic. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted it, and his heart churned with endless remorse.
He hated himself for being cowardly for a moment, for actually yielding to Mo Hua's "tyrannical might" and killing cultivators from Corpse Valley, a major sect of the Demonic Path.
This time, he had truly stirred up a catastrophic disaster.
But the people were already dead. Regret was useless now.
Elder Ji could only urge the horses onward and leave Half-Mountain City as quickly as possible, lest Corpse Valley's cultivators come seeking vengeance. At the same time, he hoped they would not encounter any more of those gloomy, ill-omened cultivators.
Mo Hua, on the other hand, remained utterly calm.
When the Blood Sacrifice Grand Array had collapsed, there had been so many demonic cultivators who died by his hand that they were beyond counting.
When it came to killing demonic cultivators, even if Elder Ji killed without pause for a hundred years, his "battle record" would still be but a single hair from nine oxen compared to Mo Hua's.
Killing a dozen or so Corpse Cultivators from Corpse Valley now was as easy as drinking water.
Mo Hua did not care in the slightest.
Besides, Elder Ji had killed those Corpse Cultivators himself. The main Karma could not be laid upon Mo Hua's head.
The two continued south.
Elder Ji feared revenge from Corpse Valley, so he did not dare slacken in the slightest along the way, driving the carriage at great speed.
After the carriage had traveled several hundred more li, it entered a stretch of Wild Mountain and ran into a massive wave of refugees.
These