Could they really break this formation?
Looking at the supremely confident Bai Youlou before them, it was not only the cultivators from Heyang—even those dispatched by the sects could not help but feel uneasy.
At first, hot-blooded young people might have been willing to follow Bai Youlou into charge after charge. But after successive failures, quite a few had already lost faith in victory.
Compared to their previous confidence that they could solve the problem, being gathered here this time was more like the bewilderment of people who had resigned themselves to fate.
They could not find a path to victory, yet they had no way to hasten their own release.
The storm formed from tangled techniques before them was like an indifferent Heavenly Dao. It would not speed up even a fraction because of their curses, nor slow down in the slightest because of their pleas.
Knowing defeat was inevitable yet being able to do nothing but wait was the most tormenting process of all.
Under such circumstances, the fear buried in people's hearts would spread of its own accord. A pressure they might once have dismissed could swell a thousandfold in an instant.
It was a state difficult to put into words, but one thing was certain: without exception, everyone in such a state craved change.
Whether for better or worse.
That was why everyone had rushed over the moment they were summoned. Some had even become so self-destructive that they had no intention of concealing the details of their spiritual roots.
Under normal circumstances, what cultivator would dare hand over the foundations of their cultivation so casually?
Seeing that the crowd was in low spirits, Bai Youlou pointed at the image projected by the terminal before them.
Cultivators were highly influenced by their state of mind. Spiritual