Luo Chen was in a daze.
He didn't rush, found a corner, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes to rest.
While he was waiting, flying boats were entering and exiting the Su Ling Sect, dropping off groups of rogue cultivators.
All around, glints of light flickered, and the atmosphere for the upcoming Spiritual Assembly gradually became lively.
...
Three days later.
On the White Stone Plaza, it was a sea of people.
A dense crowd stretched as far as the eye could see, supposedly tens of thousands of rogue cultivators!
Even though no one was speaking loudly, the occasional murmurs gathered into what felt like a pot of boiling water, incredibly noisy.
"Xuan Luo, do you think we can successfully join the Su Ling Sect?"
Huang Yuanhua's voice came to his ears again, with an increasingly worried tone.
Luo Chen opened his eyes, glanced at him, and his brow slightly furrowed.
His restlessness was truly a sign of a poor Dao heart.
