The purple-clad youth atop the mountain peak, his black hair flying, gestured toward the vast lands. He was passionately spirited, exhibiting an unmatched flair as he seemed to face the world alone.
However, Ye Fan, thinking of that damn fatty impersonating him, felt truly uneasy; otherwise, he might actually have felt a sliver of admiration.
The purple-clad youth stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking increasingly relaxed. With an arrogant lift of his brows, he said, "And as for you Saint Heirs and Sacred Ladies, in my eyes, you are merely flowers nurtured in a greenhouse. In the future, should I enter the Four Extremes secret boundary, I will challenge each of you, making you submit at my feet."
Everyone was stunned; the cultivators from the various Sacred Lands were enraged beyond measure.
