The decisive battle between the two immortal sects.
Rogue cultivators, along with the smaller sects, were all finding survival increasingly difficult in the current environment. Resources were scarce, and they dared not take sides.
Compared to Nightlight Pavilion, Phantom Spirit Sect was certainly weaker, but this was ultimately territory close to Phantom Spirit Sect—their home ground.
Phantom Spirit Sect had been entrenched here for tens of thousands of years. A considerable number of the smaller sects' founding ancestors had grown up hearing its name.
Even though it had now declined, its influence from the past still remained.
These rogue cultivators had been drawn here by this great battle mostly because they wanted to learn the news at the first possible moment, then decide which path to take in the days ahead.
Their own strength only allowed them to drift with the current. One misstep, and they would be swallowed by the tide of change.
Chu Zheng lifted his head and glanced at the sky. The sun was gradually sinking westward, and dusky yellow clouds had already surfaced at the horizon.
Tomorrow would be the day of the decisive battle. The fighting of cultivators was utterly different from the struggle for supremacy between mortal dynasties.
With the Holy Land's intervention added to the mix, both sects had now revealed every trump card and were facing each other head-on.
Deploying troops and laying formations, the deceptive arts of warfare—none of that worked here. It was simply a contest of whose cultivation was higher, whose combat power was inevitably stronger, and who possessed more abundant magical treasures and medicinal pills.
This battle would not drag on for long. It would surely be settled in one sustained burst, and victory or defeat would likely be decided soon.
In Chu Zheng's eyes, Nightlight Pavilion was