On the summit of Luo Mountain, the sky was dim with clouds, densely packed, with vague lightning serpents wildly dancing, as if brewing a thunderstorm from the Nine Heavens.
Xu Zhenguan, clad in the Dragon Robe, held the Ancestor Divine Weapon, his brows fierce as he gazed at the figure of Wu Xiankui.
This first martial artist of the era initially appeared from afar, above the river. Yet with one step, he crossed the distance, appearing ten meters away from the Empress.
"Wu Xiankui! So it is you."
Xu Zhenguan's voice was chilling, his face like a mask of cold frost, resembling the winter day of the Xuanmen Coup three years ago.
There was not much surprise in his tone, as if he had long suspected it.
As he spoke, his gaze landed on the solitary and corpulent form of Wu Xiankui, who had come from the East Sea on a bamboo raft.
The latter wore coarse linen garments, and his disheveled hair, black and white, was tied casually behind his head with a silk ribbon.
