"Greetings, young master!" Old Ping and his two servants bowed their heads respectfully, their hands cupped in a show of deference. The room was strewn with countless bodies of cultivators, a grim testament to their recent battle.
With a wave of his hand, Xia Wei exerted his Qi, effortlessly sweeping away the debris and causing the remnants of the room to fade from view. He briefly glanced at his servants before shifting his gaze to the lifeless figures behind them.
"How did it go?" His expression turned cold and indifferent, the earlier cheerfulness vanishing as he laid eyes on the fallen. The memories of the tribulation still haunted his mind vividly.
'The Sanxing, the Leigong, all of them originated from one place—the Upper Realm,' Xia Wei reflected inwardly, his dark magenta eyes fixating on a particular woman.
