The Qin Clan's peak guard force reached the edge of the battlefield. After taking one distant look, they hurriedly retreated. It was not that they were timid or afraid of trouble; the disparity in numbers was simply too great.
More than a dozen had come from their side. Originally, as long as they could link up with the Assault Team, they would have had the strength to fight, perhaps even counterattack.
But the Assault Team had died too quickly. By the time they arrived, only a handful of their own Assault Team members remained. Under such circumstances, even if they forced their way in, nothing good would come of it. Retreating was the wiser choice.
The thirty-odd people from Green Feather Mountain did not rush to pursue them. Instead, they spread out and surrounded the remaining Qin Clan Assault Team members.
The few of them stood in a circle, their backs pressed together, utterly despairing.
Yet no one begged for mercy, because everyone knew it would be useless. Their factions stood opposed, and with the grudges of so many years between them, begging would only earn the enemy's ridicule.
"Kill!" One Tier Five cultivator remained alive, though he was already heavily wounded. With a roar, he led the remaining clansmen in a charge toward one direction.
Naturally, no one would be foolish enough to clash head-on with enemies fighting like trapped beasts. Getting dragged down to the grave with them would not be worth it.
What greeted them were spell after spell.
Once cultivators reached Tier Five, they could generally determine their own path. At Tier Four, they were already preparing for the road ahead, so many cultivators at this level who intended to become Spell Cultivators had already begun studying spells.
However, their cultivation was still low, and they