Before Departure, Giving One's Robe Away

Lin Xiaosu lay on the bed and made his customary little assessment of this journey.

Overall, the gains had been considerable.

First, he had come into close contact with the Lost-Road Lotus and broken the shackles on his spiritual power. Although his spiritual power was only at level twenty-one for now, still far from the worldly limit, a person had to have some foresight. Some locks were best opened early if they could be opened at all.

Second, at this stage, he had sabotaged the Hundred Clans of the Bridge Realm's grand plan of ten thousand years.

The Hundred Clans of the Bridge Realm had joined forces and sent generations of people to batter away at this great formation. The risks had been enormous. Yet with a little maneuvering from him, that grand plan had suffered an unprecedented setback. There had never been many formation masters in the Bridge Realm to begin with, and he had killed over a hundred of them. Besides the eighty-three who had died beneath the formation patrol, when he came out, he had dispatched every formation master outside with one sword strike apiece, leaving not a single one alive. There were signs that the high-level formation masters had almost been wiped out generationally. Training a new batch would not be something accomplished overnight.

That was on the formation master level.

There was another level, one even more sinister.

It was the sentence he had spoken through Er Wutian's mouth: the Ancestral Hall's objective was to drain the Bridge Realm's resources and hunt formation masters.

At present, those words were a wound for every clan. In the future, they would become a thorn buried in every clan's heart.

If anyone later wanted the clans to contribute money if they had money, strength if they had strength,