In the deathly silent, withered forest, a sinister wind howled. The stench of decay was mixed with the faint scent of blood, adding a chilling edge to the gloomy surroundings.
After the time it took for an incense stick to burn, only a group of Loose Cultivators remained where they stood.
They were covered in blood, standing in a daze as they stared at the corpses on the ground. Their lips trembled and their hands shook, a clear sign of their fear.
Of course, it wasn't the act of killing that frightened them.
Everyone present had, to some extent, stained their hands with blood before. They weren't afraid of killing, but of the power that was the Celestial Sword Sect.
Loose Cultivators generally didn't dare to provoke Sects. They knew they were outnumbered. Their usual approach to arrogant Sect disciples was to endure what they could, and if they couldn't, to hide.
