"This Spirit-Loving Flower is mine now; none of you may approach, or you will die." A warning came from someone perched atop a giant tree ahead.
It was a middle-aged man with dense eyebrows and eyes like copper bells, wielding a huge bow as he stood there, his figure robust like an iron tower, and with an aura of vigorous blood and imposing momentum.
The great bow in his hand was entirely lacquered in black, radiating a powerful aura—clearly an ultimate spirit weapon.
The other cultivators who saw this scene all looked somewhat aggrieved. Merely a few words, and he wanted to monopolize the spirit herbs—far too simple-minded of him, as if they were all a bunch of weaklings.
However, no one spoke up at the moment, choosing instead to bide their time.
Since the man belonged to the True Spirit Realm and possessed relatively formidable strength, in the absence of a strong leader to initiate the confrontation, the rest dared not act rashly.