In the heart of Jianghu, there stood a mountain, a colossal sentinel reaching towards the heavens. Its peaks, like titanic spires of a mystical realm, touched the clouds with an air of silent grandeur.
This illustrious mountain, veiled in mist, whispered tales of a bygone era. Carved by the hands of celestial forces, its rugged slopes cradled secrets and echoes of ancient wisdom.
Legends spoke of martial adepts seeking enlightenment on these lofty heights, mastering unseen forces in pursuit of enlightenment. The mountain, a silent witness to the eons, bore the scars of countless trials and triumphs, an embodiment of spiritual ascension in the world of Murim.
But...
"Shaanxi?! On the top of the Mount Hua?!! Goodness gracious, why would they bury him at such a hard-to-access place?!" Kisara grumbled as she ascended the countless steps of the mountain.
Bai Wuyong couldn't answer, and Adam, who walked alongside him, just silently listened to Kisara's angry ramble.
