Before long, the glow of dusk spilled over the peak, bathing the entire mountain in a resplendent golden hue.
True Monarch Qingchen and his people had already departed. Gang Winds swirled over the peak, and the thick stench of blood gradually began to fade.
The remaining cultivators finally felt a slight sense of relief. During this purge of cultivators, no one had asked who was right or wrong, nor had they asked for reasons.
It entirely depended on the attitudes of the various families when the Nascent Soul cultivators of the Penglai Sect had emerged earlier.
Among them, the Li family and the Jiang family had performed relatively well, so naturally, they were spared. However, Li Quanxian's back was already drenched in cold sweat. Had his father not stopped him, he might have impulsively offered his loyalty as a blood pact just moments ago.
"Quanxian, focus more on your cultivation from now on," Li Shangwu said from the side.
