The brutal scene made the white-haired elder and the burly man from the other side's faction seethe with rage. The fallen disciples were the future hope of their sect, the pillars upon which they had built their dreams.
They had planned to take their disciples out for some training, hoping to gain some fortuitous opportunities, but unexpectedly, they had all perished in the blink of an eye.
With just one attack, their sect's strength had been significantly reduced, and it would take millennia for them to recover, even if they knew of some ancient opportunities within the relic. The knowledge would be useless if they couldn't rebuild their strength.
"Ku'er! Elder Gold Horn! Elder Silver Horn!"
In the midst of the blood sea, the white-haired elder called out the names of his fallen disciples and elders with deep sorrow, his visage seemingly aged even more. The burly man remained silent, his face contorted with rage, gritting his teeth to suppress his growls.
