At this moment, more than two thousand li southeast of Huangdang Mountain, a sprawling encampment had been set up across a plain.
Squads of Tianli Cultivators were marching out from the tents in different directions, and the atmosphere was grim and murderous.
At the center stood a towering grand tent, rising above the others like a crane among chickens.
Inside, more than ten cultivators sat upright. The auras around them were either incomparably powerful or obscure and dangerous.
They were all Nascent Soul Cultivators, and most were at least at the middle stage.
Two among them were particularly formidable.
One was an old man seated in the place of honor. He wore coarse hemp clothing, was withered and thin, and had dark skin. At a glance, he looked much like an old farmer working in the fields.
The Spiritual Pressure around him flickered in and out of existence, making him seem utterly inconspicuous compared to the other Nascent Soul Cultivators.
Yet when his eyes opened and closed, sharp light spilled forth. Every movement he made carried immense authority. He was clearly a Late Nascent Soul Cultivator.
The other was a middle-aged man in black robes, pale-faced as though he had just crawled out of a coffin.
Wisps of black mist drifted from his body. Though his expression was calm, it could not conceal his arrogance. Black glimmers occasionally flashed through his eyes, making him seem exceptionally eerie.
The powerful Spiritual Pressure around him was completely undisguised. He too was a Late Nascent Soul Great Cultivator.
The others in the tent seemed deeply wary of the black-robed cultivator and sat far from him. Whenever they glanced his way, their eyes revealed traces of disgust.
Apart from those two, there was also a handsome young cultivator in a blood-red robe, seated there