In the eastern part of the Cangxuan Realm, outside the Heavenly Road Passage.
Under the gray sky, several massive defensive formations had risen from the ground, and the cultivators of the Star Luo Sect were sitting cross-legged.
They continuously poured spiritual energy into the array plate, and the light from the array patterns reflected on their tense faces, revealing a hint of determination.
Ahead, the swirling vortex of the heavenly path became increasingly clear, with purple-gold light overflowing from it like a venomous snake spitting its tongue, radiating a suffocating pressure.
Qian Gan stood at the front of the formation, his brocade robe long since replaced with a black, close-fitting outfit for easier movement. The jade pendant at his waist shimmered faintly, continuously converting the spirit stones hoarded by the Qian Family Chamber of Commerce into energy for the formation.
Behind them was a massive, dark army of cultivators.
The Dao-Seeking Realm ancestors from the four regions lined up at the forefront, with the Rock Ancestor's black iron armor reflecting a cold light, and the Righteous Spear of the White-Robed Ancestor of the Three Saints Sect hovering to his side.
The black mist emanating from Ancestor Yan Su had already spread to their feet; in the middle were cultivators at the Tribulation Transcending Realm, with Jiang Li, Xiao Chen, and Shi Tou mixed in among them, and Xiao Zhan and the others following closely behind, their hands on their weapons, their eyes wary.
Behind them were Mahayana Realm cultivators, responsible for delivering supplies and repairing formations; each of them wore a solemn expression.
No one spoke; only the wind howled, carrying spiritual energy, and the hum of the array in operation could be heard.
Everyone knew that taking one step forward might mean certain death. But behind them lay their sect, their family, and the home where their loved ones and children lived—there was no turning back.
"How about... how about we surrender?"
A faint voice suddenly rang out from the back of the crowd, like a needle piercing the heavy silence.
The speaker was a late-stage Mahayana cultivator from a small family in the Central Region. He had been the one who pounded his chest and shouted the loudest when registering, but now his face was deathly pale.
He trembled violently, almost dropping his longsword: "The Upper Realm... the Upper Realm is so strong, we can't possibly defeat them! If we surrender, maybe we can still live..."
Before the words were finished, a cold snort rang out.
"Snap!"
An old ancestor at the Dao Inquiry Realm from the Eastern Domain Sect appeared before the cultivator in a flash, his withered hand resting on the cultivator's head.
With a burst of spiritual energy, the cultivator was reduced to a cloud of blood mist before he could even scream, his very soul crushed to dust.
"Anyone who is cowardly in battle and undermines the morale of the army shall die!"
The old ancestor's voice was hoarse, yet carried an undeniable authority. His gaze swept across the crowd, "Anyone who dares to surrender again will suffer this fate!"
The crowd fell silent instantly, even their breathing became shallow. The slight wavering they had felt earlier was completely suppressed by the sudden bloodshed.
Qian Gan's face darkened. He glanced at the spot where the blood mist had dissipated, a hint of doubt flashing through his mind—calling for surrender at this moment seemed too deliberate.
Could they be dogs sent by those people in the upper realm, pawns planted in advance by those who surrendered? But now is not the time to investigate. He took a deep breath and took a step forward.
Just then, an arrogant voice came from the vortex of the Heavenly Road, exploding between heaven and earth like thunder:
"You insignificant ants from a small world, if you know what's good for you, lay down your weapons and surrender! Offer up the essence of your realm, the spiritual vein mine, and a thousand cultivators' souls as a sacrifice, and perhaps we may spare your lives!"
Otherwise, when we arrive, we will slaughter you all, leaving not a single one alive!
The voice carried the unique pressure of the upper realm, like a heavy hammer striking the hearts of every cultivator. Many Mahayana cultivators turned pale and tightened their grip on their weapons.
Fear spread silently, like vines.
"Scared?"
Qian Gan suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but clearly carrying throughout the entire area. He didn't look at the Heavenly Road, but turned around, his gaze sweeping over the cultivators behind him, "They say surrendering will save you?"
He smiled, but his smile was cold: "Think about it, if you stick your neck out to someone else's knife, do you think they will stop cutting you just because you're obedient?"
A thousand years ago, the people of the upper realm said something similar, and what was the result? They slaughtered countless cities, dug up seven spiritual veins, and refined the souls of cultivators into lamp oil!
"If we surrender, will they spare our families?"
Qian Gan's voice suddenly rose, carrying a penetrating power, "Will you spare the children of our sect? Will you spare the lovers who are waiting for us to return?"
"Won't!"
"They treat us like pigs and dogs, like prey to be tested! Surrendering means sending our families, children, and loved ones to hell!"
He drew his sword sharply from his waist, the tip pointing directly at the vortex of the Heavenly Road. His dark-colored outfit fluttered in the wind: "Brothers! Behind us is our home! Our roots! It's what we'll protect with our lives! Raise your blades, grip your swords tightly!"
Are you scared?
"Don't be afraid!" Someone shouted first, and the message spread like wildfire.
"I'm not afraid!"
"kill!"
"Protect our home!"
The shouts grew louder and louder, soaring into the sky and subtly overpowering the oppressive force emanating from the heavenly path.
The fear in the cultivators' eyes gradually faded, replaced by burning anger and determination—yes, their homes were behind them, and retreating meant falling into an abyss; the only option was to fight to the death!
Jiang Li gripped the rusty iron sword tightly, her red robes billowing in the wind, a hint of admiration flashing in her eyes.
Xiao Chen's spear tip trembled slightly, and his spear intent became even more fierce because of this morale; Shi Tou roared even more, his black iron fists clenched so tightly that they cracked, wishing he could rush up right now.
The voice within the vortex of the Heavenly Road fell silent for a moment, seemingly surprised that these "ants" dared to resist. Then, a furious roar rang out: "You fools! When we descend, we will make you taste all the cruelest tortures in the world!"
"Bring it on!"
Qian Gan raised his sword to the sky, his voice resolute, "We, the cultivators of the Cangxuan Realm, have incredibly tough bones!"
Qingyun Sect, Bamboo Courtyard.
In the water mirror, the scene of Qian Gan encouraging the troops was clearly visible. His words were so powerful that even Lin Zhou couldn't help but sit up straighter.
"Not bad."
Lin Zhou watched Qian Gan's figure, a smile of approval curving his lips. "Knowing how to use 'family' and 'love' to touch people's hearts is much more effective than empty slogans."
He picked up a piece of fruit from the plate next to him, took a big bite, and juice dripped down the corner of his mouth:
"He even knows to first kill a coward to establish his authority, and then use harsh words to break down the opponent's psychological defenses... With such eloquence and methods, no wonder he can open his business guild all over the four regions."
In the water mirror, the cultivators' morale was completely ignited, the light of the defensive formation shone even brighter, and even the spiritual energy in the air became scorching hot.
"This is getting interesting."
Lin Zhou chewed on the fruit, his eyes fixed on the Heavenly Road vortex with interest. "Twelve Dao Proving Realm cultivators against a group of 'ants' driven to the brink of despair... Let's see if your butcher's knife is harder, or their bones are harder."
The wind rustled through the old locust tree, its leaves whispering as if providing accompaniment for a distant battlefield.
A major battle is about to break out.
Lin Zhou, meanwhile, remained in the bamboo courtyard, leisurely munching on his fruit, waiting to see what kind of outcome this deadly battle in the name of "homeland" would produce.
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