Aksai stood still in the middle of the clearing, the bodies of the four dead sect elders lying around him like broken dolls.
The leaves on the surrounding trees didn't rustle. Even the wind seemed to stay away.
The Spirit farmer let out a slow breath.
A wave of relief washed over him.
He didn't show it when facing his enemies. But deep down, he had been cautious—very cautious.
Killing lone cultivators and heretic demonic cultivators with almost no backing was nothing. It was easy. Quick. Clean.
But these weren't the drifters.
They were experienced cultivators from a well established sect. A strong one. Iron Mountain Sect wasn't just some minor backwater group. They had structure. Resources. Backing.
And tonight, Aksai had gone up against not one or two, but four Foundation Building elders from that sect. Two of them were late-stage cultivators.
That level of strength—if he had faced it head-on, without his tricks, without his puppets?
