"There's an island up ahead, let's rest there for a while," suggested a cultivator.
Many were injured from the desperate escape.
After consecutive battles, they were all completely exhausted and indeed in need of rest.
Everyone nodded their heads and, dragging their weary bodies, landed on the island.
Lin Feng looked around at the group.
There were probably still over two hundred people.
Originally, there had been over a thousand.
But most had died a tragic death.
Everyone landed on the island and concealed themselves within a mountain valley to rest.
Shangyuan Daoist stood atop the mountain, gazing towards the distant sea.
It had long turned into a blood-red sea.
The air was filled with the scent of blood.
"Wuliang Taoist Venerable."
Shangyuan Daoist sat cross-legged, recited the Taoist Scripture for a while, and performed Transcendence of the Dead Soul.
