The Martial Artist turned to look at the many mortals who wanted to go back and die alongside Su Mo. Memories of the past flashed through his eyes. Then he looked toward that solitary white-clad figure and slowly spoke:
"We can't leave him to shoulder everything alone... we can't fall short of even mortals..."
"If we died like that, even our Sect's fallen forebears would laugh at us..."
The Martial Artist beckoned, and a plain saber appeared out of thin air in his hand.
He raised his hand and gently stroked the blade. As though possessed of a spirit, the saber gave a faint, resonant tremble.
The Martial Artist looked at the Swordsman. The Swordsman slowly drew his sword from its sheath, the hand gripping its hilt seeming to regain its strength at that moment.
"Let's show those people from the Upper Realm the backbone of our Ninth Realm. We can't let that white-clad fellow steal all the limelight..."
"It's only... death..."
The Martial Artist turned to look at the mortals who wanted to help Su Mo, then looked at the Swordsman.
The Swordsman nodded. The Martial Artist waved his hand, and a barrier appeared, stopping those mortals.
If the mortals went, they would only be throwing their lives away.
Facing Spirit Transformation cultivators, they, too, would only be throwing their lives away...
The Martial Artist and the Swordsman rose into the air, becoming two long rainbows that cleaved through the void toward the white-clad figure, heading to their deaths...
But the Martial Artist and the Swordsman had barely set off when a golden light appeared out of nowhere, bound them, and then vanished with them.
Looking out, even the mortals on the ground had vanished in an instant, leaving no trace.
Su Mo looked up at the six