In the grand hall, a middle-aged cultivator, dressed in a purple Daoist robe, exuded a restrained aura. Although he appeared ordinary, he seemed to harmonize with all of heaven and earth, possessing a natural Daoist grace.
Below him stood several Immortal Cultivators.
Among them, one had a left hand severed at the shoulder, another had a scattered aura, and the third had a solemn face. They were the three Bai Ziyue had previously seen.
"In another year, the floating warship would descend. The battle for the twelve slots would inevitably become even fiercer.
Various sects' veteran powerhouses might make a move to secure a slot.
Your ambush might very well be related to this."
The middle-aged cultivator's gaze fell upon them, his expression solemn, as he said, "For the time being, you should stay within the sect to recover and avoid going out."
"Yes, Sect Leader!"
The two injured individuals quickly nodded.
