The first wave struck with terrifying speed—blades of dark qi arcing through the trees like falling stars. The cursed cultivators surged forward in silence, movements twisted and jerky like marionettes on broken strings.
But Lin Mu did not move.
He assessed the cultivators, finding them relatively weak.
"Just some spirit cultivators and three immortals?" Lin Mu was wondering if they were taking them as a joke sending such people after them.
He raised a single hand, palm outward.
"Clear."
A golden wave of immortal qi tinged with Sword Intent rippled from his body, sweeping across the battlefield in a radiant pulse. Trees swayed, the mist parted, and the incoming attacks evaporated midair, as if swallowed by the sheer weight of his power.
The cursed cultivators faltered, their momentum breaking as fear trickled into their blank eyes.
"Now," Lin Mu said, his voice quiet.
