Hei Xinjiu had entered a mystical realm, but those inner sect disciples were suffering unspeakably.
If they were just meditating, they could still persevere. The key was that they were all kneeling on the ground. At first, they could still endure it, but as time went on, their legs felt like they were being pricked by Needles.
What made them even more devastated was that after such a long time, they still hadn’t gained anything. They couldn’t help but feel disheartened.
It seemed that they would return empty-handed again this year. As expected, the ancient sword spirit could be encountered but not sought.
Some people simply gave up and changed their kneeling posture to meditation, waiting for the ceremony to end.
Elder duanmu and elder Yin did not say anything when they saw this. It was the same every year. After all, opportunities could not be forced.
Elder Yin’s gaze fell on Yin Zhenfan. Yin Zhenfan was his grandson, so he naturally had high hopes for Yin Zhenfan.
