"What if after fifteen years, there's still nothing?"
The cultivator at the early stage of foundation building with a sharp chin and monkey cheeks still sat uneasy and anxiously said, "That Qiyu swordsman, he might stay within the sect without taking a step outside for fifteen years, so why couldn't he just stay put for another fifteen years?"
"If there's nothing, then there's nothing."
"All it means is we'll have to go to another place and cultivate bitterly for another twenty or so years. Haven't the sect given us spirit stones?"
The shadowy old man said indifferently, "Junior Brother Liu, are you implying that our ancestor has made a mistake?"
"You can speak plainly, no need to hide your thoughts."
"I wouldn't dare, Junior Brother has no such thoughts!"
The sharp-chinned, monkey-cheeked, early-stage foundation building cultivator shuddered and dared not speak another word—even the matters concerning his own clan were indeed a matter of life and death.
