At the top of the cliff, the cold wind was blowing bleakly.
Since Han Ye disappeared, the Daoist in the long robe stood in mid-air, scanning the surroundings with his spiritual sense and found no trace of anyone.
His eyebrows knitted, unsure of the means the other party had used.
A moment of silence.
Another sound of rending space caught his attention as the figures of a man and a woman landed on the cliff. In addition, four or five figures appeared in various corners of the cliff.
A stubble-faced man with a sword wrapped in white cloth over his shoulder scanned his surroundings then greeted the Daoist in the long robe with a grin:
"Everyone's here pretty fast, but where's the person?"
"..."
The mountaintop was eerily silent, no one paid him any mind.
He didn't seem embarrassed. Instead, he seemed used to being ignored. These guys, each thinking they were the top talents of the Immortal Gate.
