In the lingering glow of sunset, five Qi Refiners scrambled onto clouds outside the stockade gates and swiftly flew toward the seashore.
The two in front carried the Treasure Light clay statue, covered from view.
Behind them, an old Daoist and a young Qi Refiner supported Wang Cai, whose legs were trembling...
There was a distinct fist imprint on Wang Cai's chest, caved in three inches. His own magical power surged like tides, refusing to settle. As he flew, he would occasionally spray a mouthful of blood to the side...
Fortunately, he had already reached the Nascent Soul Stage. An injury like this wouldn't kill...
Pfft!
Maybe it really would kill him.
The old Daoist hurriedly shouted, "Wang Cai! Wang Cai!"
His mouth full of blood, Wang Cai turned to his master and forced a smile. Trembling, he said, "Master, I'm fine. We're Qi Refiners... Master, from now on... can we stop coming to this stockade?"
"We won't come back. We won't," the old Daoist said, deeply moved. "Quick, let's find somewhere safe so you can regulate your breathing. Also, next time you cough up blood, spit it at your senior brother. This robe of mine was only recently purchased."
Wang Cai weakly said, "Yes, Master... Could you give your disciple a pill?"
The old Daoist sighed. "I only have wound-healing pills, not pills to regulate Qi. Bear with it. Once we're back, meditate for a while and you'll be fine."
At the stockade gates, that crowd of villagers surged out.
Only moments ago, their faces had been filled with disdain. Now, their eyes shone as they watched the five figures in the air.
An old Daoist quietly said, "They can fly?"
"Could they really be envoys sent by the exalted god to save us?"
"Hey, divine envoys, don't go!"