In an inconspicuous corner of the Thousand-Leaf Soul Hall, the seafloor all around was littered with broken walls and ruins. Now and then, the scattered bones of humans, demons, and members of the Devil Race could be seen among the rubble.
They lent an even more desolate air to the barren region.
Lu Xiaotian, Nine-Ren Mountain, the Ksitigarbha Twelve-Winged Scorpion Demon, and Yan Bei, four Golden Immortal-level powerhouses, sat cross-legged in separate corners. Their positions complemented one another, allowing them to come to each other's aid at a moment's notice if they were attacked.
Yan Bei sat meditating with his eyes closed, flames flickering over him, sometimes bright, sometimes faint. By the time the flames had completely faded, Yan Bei had finished his cultivation. His gaze occasionally drifted toward Lu Xiaotian.
In the blink of an eye, more than three hundred years had passed since they had escaped the Soul-Losing Dark Tide. Their group had faced grave danger in the Soul-Losing Dark Tide back then.
Fortunately, Lu Xiaotian had used the formation clouds of the Wood-Hiding Water-Heaven Sumeru Formation as a shelter. Only then had the group finally gotten a chance to catch their breath.
Afterward, they had weathered several more twists and turns before finally escaping the Soul-Losing Dark Tide.
After leaving the Soul-Losing Dark Tide, the group seemed to have lost their drive to continue exploring.
In all honesty, Yan Bei wanted to reunite with the other Windfire Clan powerhouses, fight for his people, and secure the greatest possible gains for them within the Thousand-Leaf Soul Hall.
But even though his strength had now recovered to its peak, and had even risen to a new level after the many trials he had endured in the battle against the Green-Leaf Hibernating Snake horde, the Thousand-Leaf Soul Hall was simply