As the small red bird was flying against the wind in the Thousand-Mile Wind Corridor, an old man with sparse hair and red nose was on his way to the Fruit Formation Temple, or in other words, he was returning to the Fruit Formation Temple.
The Young Zen Master was in the snowland, and the old Chief Monk had passed away. The one thing that could suppress the highly achieved swordsman of the deviant sects was the Great Formation of the mountain gate.
For some reason, this formation had no effect on this old man like it had one hundred years ago.
The ugly and easily recognizable old man was the Great Grandmaster of the Mysterious Dark Sect.
