The native Jiang Wuwei said through his tears, "But this time, they've caused a huge commotion."
"Hmm?" The many New-Method big shots were surprised.
They listened for a moment, then went outside with furrowed brows.
Then they saw a scene that stunned them.
A group of New-Method Cultivators had slaughtered their companions and piled their corpses into altars.
Then, using eyes, internal organs, and other things as offerings, they chanted strange scriptures and worshipped an unknown existence.
There were exactly one thousand and one New-Method Cultivators ascending the altars to worship.
All wore black robes, their eyes glowing red and black mist swirling around their bodies.
They waved scepters fashioned from spinal columns and skulls, hopping about like primitive humans.
Blood and filth covered the enormous camp.
Many native New-Method Cultivators walked happily up to these people, then split open their own chests and lay on the altars as offerings.
A cursory glance told them that each altar was piled from at least ten thousand corpses, and some from tens of thousands.
Fuck!
Over ten million New-Method cannon fodder had died just like that? Turned into altars?
Had they gone mad?
We couldn't even bear to send them to their deaths storming Old Cultivation Method cities, yet they were slaughtering their own people for fun?
They'd all fucking lost it!
"How did the world end up like this?"
"That's ten million cannon fodder!"
"Even if they couldn't breach the Old Cultivation Method city walls, they could at least have left a few dents and pits!"
"Now they've all fucking died for nothing."
And this was not even what frightened them most.
What frightened them most was this:
With each successive sacrifice, the cultivators serving as priests grew increasingly uncanny.
The black smoke around them pierced the void, then pulled taut,