Mist steamed up, thunder surged.
In this boundless Sword Casting Valley, an elder raced at a speed invisible to the naked eye. The enormous sound of breaking through the air almost disturbed all the creatures and Yin Ghosts within the ghostly fog below.
Yet the thick and mountainous pressure emanating from the elder's body even instilled a hint of fear in those Yin Ghosts who only knew violence and slaughter.
The howling wind was tumultuous, his white hair disheveled, as Luo Zhiyuan raced forward with a grim face at full speed.
These past few days, he had not had it easy.
As the Saint of Jiatiange and the Great Commander of the Luo surname within the seven families monitoring heaven, he held immense authority in his hands. Aside from the revered Tower Lord, there were scarcely any under heaven who could surpass him.
Having held a high position for many years, it had been quite some time since he last felt the emotion called nervousness.
