The Crowd's Words Can Melt Metal

At the base of a wall in the slums, a seasoned Rogue Cultivator slapped his chest and swore that he had personally seen a mortal who practiced a Vow Power cultivation method have all his hair turn white overnight, then die in three months.

"Overdrawing your lifespan! That thing is drinking poisoned wine to quench your thirst!"

"After practicing it, you do gain strength, sure, but you won't live past three years!"

Beside the porridge shed in North City, the rumor had changed into another version.

"You all know about Central Province, right? Over there in Central Province, they've already sealed off Zhou Xuan. Spirit Stones and medicinal pills have all been cut off."

"He has nothing in his hands now. Building an academy is just to trick you in. When the time comes, he'll hand you some broken blade and shove you to the front to block the Demonic Beasts."

"Disposable."

"Thrown away once used."

At first, these words were only passed around in corners, the voices fine and fragmented, like rats gnawing at the foot of a wall.

But a mortal's fear was just like that.

It did not need to be loud.

A single "how could there be anything this good?" was enough.

The first time Qin Keqing realized something was wrong was on the street on the seventh day.

She took two Yang Clan disciples to check on the situation at the various registration points, and when she reached a branch station in West City, she found that the number of people in line had fallen by a full half compared with the previous two days.

The expressions of those who remained had changed too.

It was no longer the cautious expectation of the past few days, but a wariness of sizing one another up, probing