"That's... the Thousand-Jun Ring, the magical Treasure of our sect's seventh elder, True Person Chuanjin!"
Someone finally recognized it and cried out.
Amid his shock, Mo Chen silently cursed that half-dead old man ten thousand times.
Damn it, what had that rotten old bastard been thinking, telling me to steal Cloud Sleeve's sect-defining treasure, the Sky-Climbing Vine?
And this was only the seventh elder, which meant...
There were six elders even stronger than him!
In other words, within three hundred years, I had to raise my cultivation high enough to steal their sect-defining treasure under the watchful eyes of all those elders!
It was nothing short of a tale from the Arabian Nights.
However he considered it, he could hardly imagine succeeding.
Mo Chen had always felt that such a destiny was not his, but on second thought, he had somehow attained Longevity. What else could not happen?
Still, this required careful, long-term planning. If all else failed, he would spend those three hundred years pushing his cultivation as high as possible, narrowing the gap between himself and the caster.
Then he would rely on mind-dazing incense and spirit-erasing sand, which specifically removed soul imprints, to find a way to undo that Spellmark.
While Mo Chen spent those few moments mocking himself, another change came over the Thousand-Jun Ring that True Person Chuanjin had released.
A whirlwind inexplicably rose from beneath the Thousand-Jun Ring, which lay overturned on the ground.
The whirlwind was strange indeed. Fierce as it looked, it gently lifted the cultivators enclosed within the Thousand-Jun Ring.
It spun faster and faster, carrying both the golden ring and the cultivators into the air.
With wind beneath their feet and nothing solid supporting them, how could the cultivators not be alarmed?
"Th-this! What's going on?" several cultivators cried out