Outside of Guangfeng City, within the post station.
Gongsun Jing and the people of Immortal Pavilion were in a standoff, and although he was alone, his aura was not the slightest bit inferior.
His body stood as straight as a rod.
Upon him, one could see with the naked eye the iron-blooded spirit rising, distorting the air around him.
That was the invincible confidence found atop the battlefield.
It was a haughty gaze that had never known defeat, mingled with the iron-blooded ruthlessness and the overwhelming power of tyranny, rushing towards one's face, constantly surging within this great hall.
In an instant, everyone was momentarily dazed, as if the environment around this man began to twist and change gradually from the post station of Xi Dingzhou into a battlefield shrouded in drifting snow. The sound of the wind grew distant from their ears, and within that receding wind, there came the thundering sound of horse hooves.
