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Blood continued to flow over the forbidden formation, and the once lush island that was protected by the formation quickly turned into scorched earth. As the glow of spells faded, a middle-aged, cowering man came into view, clutching his head. His eyes were shut and he was trembling.
This middle-aged man had a huge gash across his waist, and it was bleeding profusely. After a long while, he opened his eyes in disbelief and looked around. Then, with a burst of ecstatic laughter, he hurriedly treated his wound.
After rummaging through the ruins for a while, his face turned even paler from his severe blood loss. Unable to search any further, he wrapped the talismans and dharma artifacts with his clothes before exiting the formation, only to be met by a grumbling cultivator on the shore who snatched the items he had retrieved.
"Damn it, these peasants are trickier than the last… If it weren't for the need to cooperate with the ones that follow, who would bother giving them gold?!"
After tossing...
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