Not long after a half incense stick's time, Zhang Yan arrived at the mountain gate of the Beichen Sect. Raising his sleeve, he swept away the clouds and looked down, observing that the great array was tightly sealed. It must be that the sect's members have suppressed the situation. However, sensing the turbulent spiritual mechanism within the mountain, it seemed that the battle had not yet subsided.
He raised an eyebrow slightly. Given the capability of a Great Cultivator of the Third Realm, those with slightly inferior cultivation coming in any number would be useless. By logic, they should have captured the intruders long ago. The fact that there was no result yet—could it be that the opponents were carrying some strange treasure?
Turning the thought in his mind, he initiated a spell, transforming it into a spirit talisman, flicking it into the water with a finger.
