This was the place between two high mountains.
The mountains were not very high, but the distance between them was far, and the mountain stream between them was even deeper and scary.
A rope bridge was erected between the two mountains, like a black line. It swayed in the gusty mountain wind.
The man in green clothes stood leisurely in the middle of the rope bridge. With his hands behind his back, he faced the direction where the Xiang Sect's carriage convoy came from and waited quietly.
From time to time, a mountain breeze blew, lifting up the man's hair and clothes, making a rustling sound. But his eyes did not blink, staring straight ahead.
Zhang Xiaohua's Divine Sense covered the man, who did not notice it. It was only when Zhang Xiaohua looked closely at him that he frowned slightly and raised his chin with some surprise. But by the time he carefully examined his cultivation, Zhang Xiaohua's Divine Sense had already left him far away.
