The violent and wicked supervising Yakshas had driven all the cultivators together in the pitch-dark mine cave.
Wu Qi stood loftily atop a tall stalagmite, looking down at all the miners just like Lu Buwei a few days ago. He had his single arm placed behind his back, casting his cold gaze at the several thousand cultivators beneath. It was dead silent. No matter it was the Yakshas or the cultivators, no one dared to make a sound, and all of them could see an ill omen from Wu Qi's expression.
