Everyone in that small world was walking amidst a terrible sandstorm provoked by the endless winds of the Purple Desert.
The sandstorm rose thousands of meters high into the air. The sounds of the tearing winds were like knives slicing through glass. With such incredible wind speed, if a cultivator with low cultivation were caught in that sandstorm, they would be torn apart and die immediately.
At the center of the group were the twenty-five young cultivators from the Purplecloud clan. They were being shielded by the others as they advanced step by step with extreme difficulty, but at the same time, there was visible discomfort on their faces.
The other young individuals present, hailing from humbler origins, were walking leisurely, as if on a stroll. They were all battle-tested warriors, so the pressure they felt didn't seem to pose any difficulty for them.
