Within a secret realm in Myriad Abyss, an old man’s closed door cultivation was interrupted. His eyes snapped open, the look in them sinister and ruthless.

He was Old Man Lightford, the subject of many a conversation. His gaze sharp as lightning, his brows brimmed with character. Add to that his deep eyes and tall hook nose, it made for a face with striking features. He looked old, but spirited.

He made calculations off his fingers and arched a long eyebrow, his forehead creased.

“What? My two enforcers are dead?” He’d been in closed door cultivation, but the two enforcers each harbored a strand of his consciousness in their minds, which allowed him to keep track of their vitals.

Their deaths impacted his consciousness, jerking him out of his cultivation-induced trance.

If not for certain precautions he’d taken, the shock would’ve affected him greatly if he’d reached a critical point in his cultivation.

Still, a detonation had hit his consciousness. It took some time for him to recover.

“Didn’t they go to the Eternal Sacred Land as reinforcement?” wondered Lightford. “Intelligence said that An Kasyapa showed up. Could he have killed my enforcers?”

Giving the notion second thought, Lightford didn’t think his speculations were right.

While the two enforcers might not be as strong as An Kasyapa, and could very well be taken out when separated, the two of them together should be able to rival or even overpower him.

Moreover, there were two other divines already sent to Eternal. How could four divines lose to An Kasyapa?

He was trying to puzzle out an answer when footsteps came his way. They were hesitant, like the person was faced with a difficult decision.

“Enter!” Lightford transmitted, feeling impatient.

The man was delighted to receive a response. He called out, “Are you finally exiting cultivation, milord?”

“Get to the point,” Lightford snapped with a frown.

His closed door cultivation hadn’t gone that well. Even before the interruption, his progress had failed to meet expectations. The deaths of his enforcers struck a further blow to his will. He lamented that the closed door cultivation had all been for nothing.

The man outside shuddered. His master didn’t sound pleased. Had he come at an unfortunate time and interrupted the master’s cultivation?

Nevertheless, this wasn’t time for him to play coy. He spoke up. “Milord, we’ve received news over the past few days that there’s been changes on Sandplain...”

“What? What’s gone wrong?” Lightford could no longer sit still.

He’d personally formulated their plan for Sandplain and put his most trusted men in charge. Everything should’ve been perfect.

The messenger’s heart sank, but he continued honestly. “Before today, we received only relayed messages. Today however, some cultivators have returned from Sandplain with concrete reports. The siege on the island is a complete failure!”

“A complete failure?” Lightford’s voice turned frigid, but he managed to control his temper. In a purposefully neutral voice, he inquired, “The ten sacred lands are stronger than I expected. Even if we failed to trap them, we’ve at least taken out some of their members, haven’t we? The Prismatic Convergence Formation is powerful. Combined with the mist and our ambushes along the way, they should’ve suffered some casualties even though they succeeded in breaking out.”

He was confident in his abilities.

However, the messenger didn’t give him the expected answer, but instead responded in a dejected tone. “Milord, according to our spies, the ten sacred lands suffered almost no casualties. None of their main fighting force died.”

“Bullshit!” snapped Lightford.

He didn’t believe that his masterful formation had failed to kill even one enemy. He’d put great effort and thought into the plan!

The messenger was on pins and needles. He knew the truth would bruise his lord’s ego, and he didn’t want to face Lightford’s ire. However, the truth was the truth. He didn’t dare give his lord false information, the consequences of which he couldn’t bear.

He had no choice but to be honest.

The air pulsed with tension.

Lightford was both furious and befuddled, but he couldn’t vent his emotions. He snapped, “How many divine cultivators are left in the base?”

“Our elites have been sent to each of the ten sacred lands, master. The two enforcers have gone to the Eternal Sacred Land as well. That leaves only the divine cultivators fleeing from Sandplain in the base. Other than that...”

“They dared return?!” Lightford said sharply, but he was strong-willed enough to suppress his anger. “Tell them to wait for me in the main hall. I have questions for them.”

Lightford had sent a good number of divine cultivators to Sandplain—six, to be exact. Jiang Chen and the others had killed two when they broke out.

That left four divine cultivators, but only two had returned.

The other two seemed to know Lightford’s temper and hadn’t even bothered to come back.

The two remaining gods lowered their heads like roosters that had lost a fight. There was a depressed air about them.

Their nervousness intensified when they caught sight Lightford; blood drained from their faces. They wondered what punishment awaited them.

“Tsk tsk, how impressive of you to survive the ten sacred lands’ attack. It mustn’t have been easy. Where are the others?” Lightford’s voice was slow and deliberate. It was difficult to tell how he felt. Was he pleased, or angry?

“Master… There were six of us. Two were killed. Two went missing in the chaos. We don’t know if they died or got lost.”

“Lost?” Lightford scoffed. “They’re simply too scared to see me. Fine. You’ve proven your loyalty by coming back. The loss we suffered isn’t your fault. Tell me what happened on Sandplain Island. I’ll make my judgement then.”

The two cultivators couldn’t be more relieved. It seemed that Lightford wasn’t going to hold them accountable at the moment. They weren’t going to be killed.

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