The formations Jiang Ding had set up, especially the Great Sun Boundary-Fixing Formation as a whole, were monitoring and suppressing the Guishan Iron Clan.
He had gone there once more than three hundred years ago.
Back then, he had vaguely glimpsed, deep within the Guishan Iron Clan, a decayed and mutated corpse as enormous as a mountain range. Unease had risen in his heart, and he had abandoned the idea of attacking.
Jiang Ding had instead laid down sealing and isolation formations, pulling the firewood from beneath the cauldron. He had struck at the very foundation of immortal cultivators—their spiritual qi—cutting it off and draining the qi they already possessed, seeking from the outset to sever the Guishan Iron Clan's roots.
More than three hundred years had passed since then.
Whatever kind of immortal lifeform or strange horror lay within, once deprived of spiritual qi, it would inevitably have been greatly weakened.
As things stood now, the Guishan Iron Clan—the region of that perfectly square metallic cube-shaped mountain—had already developed extensive rust. Pitch-black fresh blood flowed from it, mixed with dreadful curses. All living things within ten thousand li had perished, turning into wisps of negligible spiritual qi and blood qi that Guishan absorbed.
Yes, negligible.
Within ten thousand li of the Guishan Iron Clan, the spiritless environment left only ordinary beasts and plants. The spiritual qi gained through such methods might not even exceed the spiritual qi expended.
The lifeforms within the Guishan Iron Clan continued to weaken in the spiritless environment as time passed.
"When will you finally be unable to endure it any longer and break the seal of your own accord?"
Jiang Ding muttered to himself.
He was in no hurry and had no intention of launching an attack himself.
The world's spiritual veins and earth