Time drifted on.
Time flowed like water, and a hundred years passed;
Then another hundred years passed;
Then another hundred years passed;
Everything beneath heaven, every living being in the universe, changed with time. Humans were born, aged, fell ill, and died. Cultivators advanced. Golden Core cultivators rose and passed away, while Nascent Soul Cultivators lived through several generations.
Before anyone knew it, eight hundred years had passed.
Over those eight hundred years, the Immortal Sect changed little. Generation after generation of its cultivators were born, grew up, received an education, then crossed the realm passage into the Horn Nether Domain, replenishing and relieving the Immortal Sect expeditionary army there.
Many Immortal Sect cultivators also died far from home. Only cenotaphs returned to the Immortal Sect, giving their loved ones something to remember them by.
Most of the returning cultivators were at Foundation Establishment or Golden Core. Nearing the end of their lives, they came home to see their homeland again, carrying the ashes of comrades who had fallen in battle.
As they emerged from the teleportation array, an Immortal Sect reinforcement fleet of more than two hundred thousand vessels arrived overhead and landed within the super teleportation array. Fully equipped and at full strength, its troops brimmed with morale and youthful vigor. Their young faces shone with the desire to win glory.
"It's good to be young..."
An elderly Golden Core cultivator stepped out of the teleportation array with his comrades. His left arm was gone, and half his body moved stiffly and awkwardly. His hair had gone gray, but there was no weariness of war in his eyes. He merely sighed. "I first went to war at a hundred and one, when I was only a Foundation Establishment cultivator. I never imagined the years would slip by