When the fight began, the two female medical cultivators whom Wen Jiayin had tossed behind the stone stele at the sect entrance to keep them safe clung to each other and trembled. One was frightened; the other was excited.
They were both holding protective artifacts, so the shockwaves from the Golden Core cultivators’ battle could not reach them. Even so, a severed arm came flying over and landed in front of them, spraying blood across the ground.
The arm clearly belonged to a man, so it certainly wasn’t Little Martial Uncle’s. For a cultivator, losing an arm was no...
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