Previously, they had believed that this true fire came from the power emanating from some supreme treasure hidden within the unknown crimson demonic bird in the heavens.
But now, they could feel the spiritual vitality of heaven and earth vanishing for no reason. Their own Dharma Power, divine abilities, spells, even the Fate Allotment above their heads, were all inexplicably flowing into the true fire.
"Land of Spirit Severance."
"People of Spirit Severance."
In an instant, even Wang Chunfeng's hand could not help trembling.
Though he himself was trapped in peril, with death all but inescapable, at this moment he could not help thinking of the sect beyond the Eight Wastelands.
He thought of those senior sect members and fellow disciples, wondering whether they could detect the anomaly beneath the Eight Wastelands.
"The Eight Wastelands are Variable Fate."
"But the greatest possibility of a Variable Fate is that it cannot be controlled."
"Alas."
He let out a deep sigh.
The others had not thought as deeply as he had.
The Demonic Cultivators, in particular, wore expressions where terror and rage intertwined.
Yet no matter how they struggled, their bodies seemed utterly frozen in place.
Every movement, even the act of activating spells and chanting incantations, appeared to slow with every passing moment in the eyes of others.
In the blink of an eye,
several people had not even waited for tongues of flame to lick across their bodies.
In an instant, not even a speck of dust remained where they had stood.
Not a trace of their aura remained either.
In that instant, the True Spirits of those cultivators closest to the outer flames had already been ground away.
Time drew closer bit by bit.
The true fire crept nearer bit by bit.
"Senior Brother?"
In his daze,
Wang Chunfeng