After the time it took to drink a cup of tea:
Dozens of martial artists carried a sedan chair fashioned from frost ice, racing toward the edge of the icefield.
On the sedan chair, Foundation Establishment Ancestor Zhang Wang swallowed pill after pill to heal his injuries.
Yet the potent medicines that had once easily healed his injuries, and could even bring the dead back to life, could not erase the lingering power of the spells inside him.
"Damn it!"
"Why is this old cultivation method so hard to deal with?"
"They weren't even at foundation establishment, so how could they injure me so badly?"
"Those old bastards wasted so many resources and couldn't even reach foundation establishment!"
"They're destined to be swept away by the times. What right do they have to compete with us for treasures?"
"Damn it!"
"Once I've healed, I'll make them die!"
At that thought, he barked at the martial artists, "Faster!"
"Run faster!"
"Once we leave the icefield, I'll give you secret medicines to cleanse your sinews and marrow. I can even test your spiritual roots and let you become cultivators!"
The martial artists rejoiced and picked up their pace.
Just then, a strand of killing intent descended from the sky.
After sensing the fluctuations of lingering dharma power inside Zhang Wang, it silently slipped behind his neck.
Then, under the horrified gazes of some of the martial artists, it circled Zhang Wang's neck once before streaking away through the air.
On the sedan chair carved from frost ice, Zhang Wang noticed nothing at all.
He swallowed a secret medicine, habitually preparing to promise the martial artists a grand feast of rewards.
But the next second, he felt all his hot blood surge out of his chest.
Then he saw the world turn upside