The Youth Walking Through a Sky of Blood Rain

It was not only Hei Zefeng, the late Golden Core cultivator before him.

From all directions, concealed by a top-grade third-tier formation, more than twenty early- and mid-stage Golden Core cultivators silently closed in. Most were direct descendants of the Hei Clan, while a small number were not even collateral kin, but independent cultivators and the like, likely promised something in return.

Below the Golden Core Realm, countless Foundation Establishment and Qi Refinement cultivators were scattered throughout the area, numbering as many as several hundred thousand. In perfect order, they guarded every formation node, waiting only for an order to activate the formation and instantly encircle and kill the enemy.

Their combat experience was extraordinarily rich, and their mobilization system superb.

With so many cultivators drawing upon the spirit vein, they did not fear even quasi-Nascent Soul cultivators!

Clearly, Hei Zefeng was not as ignorant of Tushan sword cultivators as he had made himself out to be.

No one was stupid.

Even if the distance was great and intelligence from recent years had not been updated, a Golden Core cultivator who could escape from the hands of a Nascent Soul patriarch deserved no amount of caution too great.

"The last remnants of the Hei Clan's direct line..."

Jiang Ding sighed softly, unwilling to say more. His hand rested on the sword hilt as he slowly drew it. "The final afterglow of a force that has endured for ten thousand years is about to come to an end."

"Even I cannot help but feel deeply moved."

"Even ten thousand years must eventually meet their end."

"What in this world can be eternal?"

The first sliver of sword edge emerged from its sheath.

At first, the killing intent was merely scattered specks.

Then, in an instant, it surged like a tidal wave.