At the summit peak, four figures stood upon an arced platform.
Gazing into the distance, the beautiful vista of a myriad of mountains and rivers lay entirely in their view, while the rustling cold wind at the summit swept over their richly adorned robes.
A beautiful woman with a composed figure, an old man hunched over a walking stick, a handsome middle-aged man, and a fat man.
Despite their differing appearances, what they had in common was that the aura of each individual at the summit was as long and unending as the tide, impenetrably deep.
The four stood in silence atop the mountain, bracing against the cold wind for about half an hour.
"Tsk."
Suddenly, a clicking tongue broke the silence, its rough voice filled with dissatisfaction:
"Taishiran, did you summon us to this summit peak with the Heavenly Pavilion Mandate just to have us join you in this northwesterly wind?"
As these words fell,
The other three turned their gazes in the direction from which the voice came.
