The rogue cultivators of the great canyon followed a bewildering assortment of traditions, so varied that Hou Niao could not accurately identify many of them. But finding a Sword Cultivator among them was truly unexpected.
He could not help following, observing the swordsman's techniques from a distance.
By now, both sides had suffered casualties. Tempers flared ever higher, and their methods grew increasingly vicious. The Baishen Sect's Body Cultivation fighters held the upper hand. Shrill cries and tiger roars rang out as they began pursuing their entangled opponents. One side wanted to flee, the other to hold them there, and the fighting abruptly intensified.
The rogue cultivators were more united than he had imagined, particularly during their retreat. As with an army, the worst casualties came when everyone was too busy saving themselves to help others and fled without choosing their path. But the rogue cultivators' organization had distinct layers. They retreated without disorder, lost ground without fleeing, and helped one another. Soon, the entire group approached the upper rim of the great canyon. One more leap would carry them into the open sky, where they could scatter all at once, leaving no one able to pursue them.
Under these circumstances, the strongest rogue cultivators brought up the rear, including the skilled swordsman.
Cao Dean swept past him, his words laced with mockery. "Have you taken a good look, Observer? Every member of our Wu Division fought bravely, each striving to be first. Was there a single coward who clung to life and feared death?
"Since you stood with your hands tucked in your sleeves at the start, please keep them there until the end. Don't sully the hands of a distinguished Shanmen Sword Cultivator."
He had reason to feel indignant. So far, this supposed supervisory observer had contributed nothing