Looking at the scant few figures who could still barely remain standing.
Knowing full well that they were only forcing themselves to support their bodies despite having completely lost all combat ability, Ling Wuyuan shook his head slightly before turning his gaze once more toward the staircase extending from the Floating Rune Warship.
"Let's go."
His tone was as it had always been.
There was not the slightest difference.
It was as though he had done nothing at all just now.
Before his words had even faded.
He had already stepped forward.
At the same time.
Pei Yiman and Wu Yanlian, on his left and right respectively, each took hold of one of his arms and stepped forward alongside him.
Seeing this, the others promptly followed behind without the slightest hesitation...
Faced with the sight of him turning around and leaving without a shred of attachment.
Those few figures who were barely standing immediately wanted to open their mouths and say something.
But after they opened their mouths.
What spilled forth was not the words they had wanted to utter, but crimson blood that still carried warmth...
This directly signified that the injuries to their minds had truly begun to affect their Physical Bodies.
Thus.
At this moment.
As they looked at the blood flowing from their own mouths, those figures could not help but freeze, feeling as though they had completely forgotten what they had wanted to say...
To be honest, it was an indescribable bitterness.
They had considered themselves strong, considered themselves outstanding.
Yet they had been casually instantly defeated by a cultivator of their own generation.
They had not even been instantly defeated in a one-on-one fight. They were merely some of the countless small fry who had been instantly wiped out in one stroke.
Faced with