When the prairie Sword Cultivators reached the Orthopedic Sect's Mountain Gate, everyone had already fled. A great fire blazed, and a man hung high from the flagpole-none other than Miao Renlong, his eyes still open in death.
So it was him? Hou Niao glanced at him, the Anchor Chain cultivator he had met once on Hell Star, then put him out of his mind.
This was what came of taking a mile when given an inch. It had originally been a good thing: an Anchor Chain tradition had won acceptance from a sect in Jinxiu, securing a foundation on which to carry on its legacy. Instead of managing it properly, laying solid foundations, and waiting ten or several dozen years to gain a firm foothold before considering expansion, he had barely been in power a few months before gathering his old Anchor Chain associates in droves, assembling on the prairie to stir up trouble. A greedy snake trying to swallow an elephant-that described people like him.
"What happened? True Person Sun is dead?"
The news startled Hou Niao. It was simply unbelievable. He had thought he would face a desperate battle to the death, but now, those who died had died, those who fled had fled, and what burned had burned. Everything was cleared away, settled once and for all.
The prairie Sword Cultivators had come in high spirits, only to find nowhere to vent them. Some wanted to go after Daitao's minor Foundation Establishment cultivators who had not escaped in time, but Hou Niao sternly stopped them.
"Keep your people in line! Have you forgotten so quickly how the people of Daitao lost? If there's a next time, I'll hold you directly responsible, strip you of your sword body, and send you back to guard the ancestral tombs!"
Shi