What Wuxin didn't know was that Li Youwei's words—words he hadn't taken to heart—would be the reason he eventually left Divine Sword City in a sorry state, covered in wounds.
Of course, that was a story for later.
As time passed, the great tree atop the mountain began to glow faintly, and the eight Fig Fruits gave off waves of fragrance.
One whiff was enough to lift the spirits.
The fragrance spread for a hundred miles.
At the scent, the cultivators below stirred restlessly and began making their way up the mountain, one step at a time.
"Everyone, treasures go to those capable of claiming them. We don't wish to shed blood today, so please turn back."
Feeling the commotion below, the young man in the distance spoke, his face murderous.
Ye Lin had made it here through sheer strength. They all acknowledged that he deserved a share of the Fig Fruits.
As for the people below, they were nothing but ants.
And ants dared to covet the treasure? They were asking for death.
"Hmph! There are eight Fig Fruits, and only five of you. What's wrong with giving the other three to us? You're far too overbearing!"
Below, a young man glared indignantly, craning his neck as he roared.
There were eight Fig Fruits, and only five of them.
Meanwhile, there were dozens of cultivators at the foot of the mountain.
Their actions were truly overbearing.
"So what if we are? Treasures go to those capable of claiming them. If you take one more step, you'll meet your end."
After the young man finished speaking, the young cultivator below refused to back down. He didn't believe the man would dare kill him in front of so many people.
So, still unconvinced, he took one step forward.
The next moment,