Outside Kongtong Mountain, a cliff.
Atop the cliff, a silent man with a sword in one arm, dressed in old clothes, his long hair unbound, face as if carved by a knife, his left cheek covered with mysterious lines that seemed to breathe, stretching to his neck.
The entire sword was wrapped in thin chains.
The thirty-nine-year-old Master of the Immortal Platform's Shaolong, [Prison Fox] Zhang Xiaozhu.
At the moment, he awaited something with a slight frown, his fingers gently rapping on the sword scabbard—on this ice-cold man, this was an exceptionally faint display of emotion.
Only a moment later, the old man in black with white hair, Su Zaihua, emerged from the mountain formation, a sword without a scabbard hung diagonally at his waist, the dark colors on his clothes were from soaked bloodstains.
"Master, I apologize for the wait," Su Zaihua said, his voice carrying a trace of weariness, "It seems they were not encountered?"
