"Daoist Friend Zhiyang, what should we do now?"
Lu Shang had pursued Old Demon Fang out of everyone's sight some time ago, yet the tens of thousands of cultivators on the battlefield still stood with swords drawn and bows bent.
Things had come to this. Though the Mulan people had many misgivings, Old Demon Fang was still the sect master of one of Great Jin's ten great sects. They would rather believe Lu Shang would lose.
"Wait!"
"Wait?"
"Indeed. As things stand, if Daoist Friend Lu truly returns, we may be able to reduce the casualties."
"Ah!"
Wei Wuya merely sighed.
"Are we cultivators supposed to just stand here?"
"Our strength may be meager, but who stops fighting halfway through a battle?"
"Besides, how can a war between two regions be decided by a single cultivator?"
In the short time since Lu Shang had vanished, all manner of remarks had arisen.
Naturally, most came from low-rank cultivators and Mulan cultivators.
The high-ranking cultivators were, at the very least, shrewd old hands who had lived for centuries. This battle was no laughing matter. Even in the brief fighting thus far, many low-rank cultivators had died, along with several nascent soul stage cultivators, including Shaman Tian and Old Demon Fang's Dao Companion, whom Lu Shang had just slain.
With the Heavenly South's deep reserves, they would naturally avoid fighting if they could. Having lived so long, they only grew more eager to keep living.
Mulan was different. Its strength seemed respectable, but overall, it fell a notch short.
"Three Shamans, are we really going to wait around like this? I brought all the lamp oil with me. The Sacred Bird has already recovered combat strength comparable to the nascent soul late stage. We might as well stake everything on a fight!"
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