For a time, everyone was full of complaints, and resentment soared to the heavens.
This was understandable.
All of them were Golden Pill Loose Cultivators from the Northern Plains, often bullied by Golden Pill Monks from the Northern Plains families. Many had blood feuds, and with so many Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures and Treasures in front of them—a fortune that could almost cover a hundred years of Cultivation—it was tempting enough to stir anyone's heart and fill it with murderous intent.
"Why don't we..."
A Post-golden Alchemist whispered through his Divine Sense.
The mere Lower-grade Magic Tool, One-Eyed Cicada, was incapable of monitoring the Divine Sense of Golden Pill Monks, especially when deliberately concealed.
"This...."
The surrounding Golden Pill Cultivators were greatly tempted, but they remained silent, harboring apprehension in their hearts.
"Hmph!"
