The miasma in Devilfall Valley was thicker than it had been three days earlier. The astral wind stirred up by the Magnetic Essence Griffin's wings tore an opening through the poisonous mist coiling around the valley entrance.
Han Li gazed down at the scorched valley below. What had once been the Seven Mysteries Sect's Martial Arts Ground was now nothing but crumbling walls and ruins. Half a stone plaque bearing the words "Seven Mysteries" jutted diagonally from the rubble. Moss had eaten into the blood-red inscription "Site of the Disciples' Sacrifice" on a stone monument, yet it still radiated a bone-piercing chill.
"Griffin, land here." Han Li vaulted down, the Water-Magnetic Sword humming softly at his waist. Behind him, Wu Jiuzhi and Tu Xiaoyi, both nascent soul early stage cultivators, followed closely. A hundred foundation establishment disciples and thirty core formation stage cultivators lined up on either side. The Star Palace cultivators' robes looked out of place amid the miasma, yet they carried an air of grim menace.
"Han Li!"
A hoarse cry came from behind the ruins. An old man in a tattered Daoist robe stumbled out, his hair and beard white, his left sleeve hanging empty. He was none other than Wu Jiuzhi, the enforcement elder of the Seven Mysteries Sect's surviving members.
More than twenty cultivators followed him, all remnants of the Seven Mysteries Sect. Apart from Wu Jiuzhi, who was at the nascent soul early stage, the strongest among them was only at the core formation middle stage. Every one of them looked sallow and emaciated, but unquenched hatred still burned in their eyes.
"Senior Brother Jiuzhi." Han Li stepped forward, his voice softening. "You've suffered all these years."
Wu Jiuzhi fell to his knees with a thud, tears streaming down his aged face. "Junior Brother