"What should I do?"
Mo Hua could not make up his mind. He sat in the eatery, watching the cultivators coming and going, watching the whole of Immortal City.
Immortal City was no longer bustling. Instead, it carried a desolation like a storm about to break.
There were fewer cultivators on the streets as well.
Those who could find another way out did so. For rogue cultivators who could find no way out, there was only one road left:
Follow the great migration of rogue cultivators, relocate to the impoverished lands of the Wilderness, reclaim the land anew, and build a place to settle.
A great demon had emerged. Even the major cultivation powers had no strength to resist it, much less rogue cultivators.
They had no choice.
They had no status, no backing, no connections, and no one willing to take them in. If they wanted to survive, they could only seek another path and rely on their own bitter efforts to endure bit by bit.
Mo Hua sighed.
As Mo Hua thought about it, he lay in the courtyard and looked up at the sky.
Whenever he encountered trouble, would he always remain untouched by it all?
Could someone like him truly become immortal? Could he truly seek the Dao?
Before Mo Hua could speak, Immortal City said again:
What, exactly, had he learned array techniques for?
Yet precisely because he was a Foundation Establishment cultivator—the only Foundation Establishment cultivator among the rogue cultivators—he had to protect them as they migrated south.
"What should I do?"
"Everything carries danger, but you cannot refuse to do something simply because it is dangerous. This concerns the lives of an entire city's rogue cultivators." Immortal City sighed.
Before a great disaster, he could remain untouched this time—but what about the next?