Within a certain secret chamber, two spatial gates stood with scintillating light rippling across their openings.
The smaller of the two golden gates suddenly began to tremor as an extremely potent burst of spatial power emanated from the gate.
In the end, eighteen Soul Formation Stage cultivators appeared from the gate.
Wang Xuanzhan's robe was stained with blood, and he held his spear tightly as he looked around, as if he was searching for someone. A pained expression then appeared on his face. "An Lin… did you not make it?"
Thirty-one Soul Formation Stage cultivators had entered through the small spatial gate, but only eighteen had returned. This was quite a heavy loss.
The joy of returning was immediately dampened by the thoughts of all those that didn't make it, and the atmosphere became quite heavy all of a sudden.
