Lin Qing had many questions on his mind, but this was not the time to ask them in detail. He would wait until the departure ceremony was over.
People continued to arrive. Most had come to see them off; only a small number of the cultivators taking part in the war were late.
Most of them had just come from farewell banquets, where a little extra conversation had delayed them.
After all, they were headed for the battlefield, and no one could guarantee they would return alive.
Boom, boom, boom-!
An unbroken roll of drums sounded from somewhere. Both the soldiers in the square and the crowds who had come to watch fell silent, their expressions turning solemn.
Boom, boom, boom-!
Another round of rapid drumbeats rang out. The cultivators in the square straightened their robes and gripped the weapons they had prepared.
Boom, boom, boom-!
After the third round of drumbeats, five figures with towering auras suddenly appeared above the square. Rather than standing directly over the cultivators' heads, they thoughtfully positioned themselves to one side.
Without question, all of them were experts in the Golden Immortal Realm-Immortal Kings.
At the center stood a man in Daoist robes. He made no deliberate effort to conceal his aura, and his immense pressure was more terrifying than that of any Immortal King Lin Qing had ever sensed.
Soon, the third round of drumming ended, and the man spoke in a deep, powerful voice.
"Everyone, the beacon fires of war along the Great Wall have yet to die out."
"The blades in your hands cut down enemies who invade our borders; the cultivation you possess protects the stars and rivers of your homeland."
"Cultivators live long lives, but if our mountains and rivers fall, even the Immortal Dao becomes empty talk."
"Those