Seeing me fly into the sky, the young Sect Master of the Spirit Herb Sect showed no panic at all; on the contrary, he looked delighted. Listening to me boast from above that, after ten breaths, we would settle the score and decide who would live and who would die, he burst into laughter. He mocked me for overestimating my strength, claiming that with over ten thousand cultivators present, I would be drowned by nothing more than the spit of a single breath from each of them.
I couldn't be bothered to respond, merely standing in the air, allowing my Wings of Flight to flap idly. It was true that many of the people below had left, but compared to those who remained, the number was negligible. Out of ten thousand, I estimated fewer than five hundred had departed.
Seeing that enough time had passed, I spoke slowly. "In the path of cultivation, to stand still is to fall behind. While there is no enmity between us, I understand that you seek longevity and wish to refine me into medicine—that is understandable. If I must blame anyone, it is only my own lack of strength. However, is it not unbecoming for so many of you to bully a defenseless woman? Do you not feel a pang of conscience?"
Chapter 422