Twelve hours passed, bringing them to the dead of night the following day.
Lin Mo stood high in the skies above the Shadow Ink State, the Divine Wood Scepter in hand.
Below him were hundreds of thousands of cultivators who had come from every direction, each holding a magical artifact at the ready, their fighting spirit soaring.
Lin Mo declared in a ringing voice, "Fellow cultivators, some of you are friends I know well, but the vast majority are unfamiliar faces I am meeting for the first time."
"But your presence here today means you have already resolved to face death, willing to give your lives to defend the fate and dignity of the lower plane."
"I cannot hide this from you: for us cultivators of the lower plane to confront the mighty Netherworld is no different from striking a rock with an egg."
"In this battle, we will certainly suffer terrible casualties. Many will sacrifice their lives, perhaps even be destroyed in body and soul, dying without so much as a place to be buried."
"Now, I will give you one more chance to choose."
"Are you willing to follow me into the middle plane and die in a foreign land, or would you rather remain in the lower plane and wait for us to save you from your fate?"
The hundreds of thousands gathered there did not hesitate in the slightest. Together, they roared, "We are willing to follow Fellow Cultivator Lin Mo into the middle plane, with no regrets even in death!"
"Good!"
Lin Mo's spirits surged. He raised his head toward the Blood Moon and Blood Eye hanging in the air and said solemnly, "Now, I will tear open the plane barrier and lead you all into the Netherworld!"
"Wood Dragon Technique, manifest!"
With a deep