Han Shi had proven his strength and potential in an unbelievable, almost miraculous way.
He was also the only one with a low-grade spiritual root to rank among the top six.
The triennial minor competition drew to a close, and Lin Changsheng followed the sect's rules.
He extracted a little qi and blood and a trace of divine soul aura from each disciple, carefully refining them into Demon Guard Life Tokens.
These life tokens had been jointly crafted by Su Zixuan and Pan Yuelian at Qing Chen's express instruction, and concealed a thread of Qing Chen's Demon Seed power.
This was also one of the meanings behind the Demon Lotus Sect.
They were life tokens, but also instruments of control.
The Demon Lotus Sect had never been a charitable institution; strength and methods were what mattered.
Lin Changsheng's expression was stern, a bloodthirsty gleam showing in his eyes:
"By order of the King of Qin'guang, we disciples of the branch altar must prepare to depart immediately and join forces with the Azure Dragon Stronghold to encircle and wipe out the Black Tiger Water Stronghold."
At these words, every disciple's face showed either excitement or bloodlust.
It was as though the approaching bloody slaughter was the stage they had long yearned for.
"Remember, flattery has never been a way to rise in the Demon Lotus Sect." Lin Changsheng's voice rang out again.
He looked around and saw every disciple rubbing their fists and flexing their palms, and inwardly nodded.
This fearlessness in battle, this thirst for slaughter, was precisely the bearing a disciple of the Demon Lotus Sect should possess.
"If we disciples of the Demon Lotus Sect have no blood on our hands, how are we to rise?" Lin Changsheng's words were like sharp blades, piercing straight into their hearts.