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"Let's go."

Then Pei Ling took Qiao Ranran and rode his sword away, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Yan Qingsui, clutching his arm and questioning his entire existence, immediately sensed trouble. It wasn't the first time Pei Ling had taken Qiao Ranran and left without warning. He turned to look and saw dust billowing far behind them, spiritual power colliding as the disturbance drew closer.

Yan Qingsui swept out his divine sense and promptly cursed. A group of cultivators had apparently stirred up a demon beast nest and were being chased by a huge pack of demon beasts straight toward them.

It made sense. The closer they got to the Central Spirit Hall, the more likely they were to run into other cultivators. A few extra hands would help right now, regardless of how many people that might drag into danger.

Yan Qingsui had no desire to be dragged in. He hurried after Pei Ling.

Unfortunately, another group of cultivators was fighting directly ahead of them. They weren't fighting demon beasts, though. They were fighting each other.

Pei Ling and Qiao Ranran did not leave. Instead, they hovered nearby, putting enormous pressure on the fighters below. There was no shortage of people who watched others fight, then swooped in to reap the fisherman's profit once both sides were battered.

Most people hid while doing it. Few were as brazen as Pei Ling.

Yan Qingsui drew closer and looked. Well, would you look at that—he knew someone down there. It was the person who had tried and failed to attack them earlier, leaving a wound on his arm before fleeing.

That person was now helping several companions surround and kill another group. When he saw Yan Qingsui appear in one piece, his pupils trembled violently. The cultivator he had