Zhongzhen Xuanfu's stronghold, only a stone's throw away, was the site of Qunlang Valley. Here, vegetation in a twenty-mile radius had been thoroughly eradicated. The ground was also oppressed to a depth of three feet. Some areas were reduced to expanses of molten magma, while others were slashed to contain intersecting trenches.
National Preceptor Abas from the Mongols floated in the void, his gaze a jumbled mess of emotions toward the scholar garbed figure across from him. A thread of blood escaped his lips, entirely losing his composure.
"Unexpectedly, Lord Shaobao's HaoYi has even surpassed that of the previous years! From what I've observed, you're on par with the Wen Zhonglie of Zhao that year."
"Having studied the wisdom of the sages for a decade, how could I not make some progress?"
