Several hundred miles outside the Wushan Prefecture boundary.
Amidst the surrounding mountains, the sea of trees gradually turned into yellow earth cliffs, lush grasslands, and shrubs became bare white rock and sand.
The water flow grew smaller and smaller, until it vanished.
In a yellow canyon resembling a wound on the earth.
Zhang Rongfang tapped the tip of his foot, leaping dozens of meters in a single bound.
From above, he appeared as a small black dot swiftly moving across a broad yellow canvas.
Suddenly, he slowed down, stopping in his tracks. He looked ahead.
"Who?"
The voice reverberated through the canyon, slowly fading away.
At this moment, directly ahead of him, perched on a steep yellow earth cliff.
There sat a shadowy figure in black clothes and a bamboo hat, quietly cross-legged, holding an iron flute.
The iron flute wasn't being played, just slowly spinning in the figure's hand.
"Someone told me you might be cultivating in the Extreme Realm."
