The three armies swept aside the clouds, rumbling onward.
Grand halls of light, dazzling wheels of radiance, and sword-clouds of strange phenomena spread across the sky. They flew unhurriedly through the heavens; from afar, they looked like immortals and gods on procession, cleansing the sins of the mortal world.
Along the way, sprites and phantoms vanished without a trace; demons and monsters prostrated themselves, not daring to cause the slightest disturbance.
Unknowingly, amid the trembling of countless cultivators and demons, the three armies of Tushan Central Court had marched for several years.
Jiang Ding sat cultivating in the Six Paths Sect with his eyes closed, keeping watch over this all along.
It was rather helpless, really. Whether the Immortal Sect sailed through the realm or the Tushan army marched within it, both required an exceedingly long time.
It was not like two sects standing side by side, where they could fight the moment they wished. Vast amounts of time had to be spent on the road.
In a war of the cultivation world, ninety-nine percent of the time was often spent traveling.
The route also mattered.
For a small number of people, it was one thing. But an army march involving millions of cultivators had to rely on spirit veins, stopping and moving as they went, halting at intervals to rest and regroup.
It was not a matter of taking whichever path one pleased.
Only cultivators utterly ignorant of military affairs would think that way.
It was not impossible to violate this fundamental military principle of the cultivation world, but one had to bear the consequence of an enormous increase in the consumption of spirit stones from cultivators' storage bags.
One had to understand: this was an army of millions of cultivators!
Even if one carried spirit stones piled as