The curse of stubbornness.
An hour before,
In a spacious underground cave, the air was mixed with the odor of blood.
In this dark place, a thousand-meter-wide rune consisting of innumerable lotus symbols shone with a dim red light.
Above the rune, there were two thousand plus cultivators both dead and alive. All the corpses were piled up forming a miniature hill, and for those who were still breathing, cold black lances were inserted all over their bodies preventing them from utilizing their spiritual essence.
These people were very anxious, but they did not dare to ask anything. They stood on their spots without even daring to move a little, just like tiny whelps.
The whole cave was deathly quiet out of fear; even the sound of a pin dropping could be heard.