Sword-Pillow Mountain was not a true mountain rooted in the earth.
It was a place both illusory and real.
The location where it opened was random and uncertain.
This time, it happened to appear before Heavenly Sun Mountain.
On the shore of the East Sea.
For once this special place appeared, it was equivalent to a secret realm, cutting off all passages from outside.
Even though Heavenly Sun Mountain lay very close to the East Sea shore, under ordinary circumstances many cultivators could still fly there on escaping light.
But now, it was as though a wall stretching in every direction had blocked the entrance.
Without entering through that opening, one could neither soar to the heavens, burrow into the earth, nor dive beneath the sea to pass through.
"Hehe."
"Why should we take this matter upon ourselves? Our Blessed Land gained its name from Sword-Pillow Mountain. Now that more and more people are coming, let those who wish to go, go."
"Sword-Pillow Mountain holds dangers as well. Let them go if they wish. Amid the present Variable Fate, it is impossible to keep every matter within one's own grasp of Heavenly Secrets."
The grand martial uncle at the very top made the final decision.
He directly adopted a policy of governing by inaction. What he could not manage, he did not wish to manage.
Having lived through one Eight Wastelands, many elderly cultivators still felt lingering terror.
They only felt that when tribulation descended, their hearts became clouded and their senses muddled.
What they did no longer resembled their former selves.
Those who had escaped death cherished their lives all the more.
Those who had seized fortune and Fate Allotment within the Eight Wastelands were gathered among the geniuses of illustrious orthodox lineages.
Yet beyond the Eight Wastelands, tribulations