Thousands of people soon gathered on the mountain behind Wuxiang Temple. Fortunately, the forest was large enough, otherwise it would not be able to accommodate such a mixed group of people.
The forest was densely wooded and the rocks were steep. When a large group of them rushed in, it was like throwing a tank of fish fry into muddy water. Not only was it difficult to distinguish between friend and foe, the scene was also very chaotic. From the big sects with some reputation to the little-known small gangs, everyone had their own ideas.
Xuan Cheng had heard his teacher say these eight words many times on Wangchen Peak: "A group of dragons without a leader are like a pile of loose sand." Only now that he had seen it with his own eyes did he understand its meaning.
His heart tightened, but he didn't show it on his face. He just made a gesture to his five fellow disciples, and the six of them divided into three groups and inserted themselves into the crowd. This way, they could respond on their own and regroup and take care of each other in the shortest time possible.
A group of people rushed here in a great momentum. They first saw the dead bodies lying all over the forest. Someone cut open the clothes of the corpses and found Prajna flower tattoos on some of them, while the rest were flawless.
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