The torrent of time flows silently, a hundred Primordial Assemblies pass in the blink of an eye.
Panwuworld, Xiangu Continent.
The Immortal Sect, suspended alone atop the Cloud Sea Peak, its mountain gate dilapidated, Spiritual Qi withered.
At the highest point of the sect, on the Immortal Platform, a long-brow Daoist stands with hands behind his back.
His long brows hang down to his waist, his Daoist robe stained with faint red blood marks, his gaze murky yet hiding ruthlessness, looking at the gray sky.
He murmurs in his heart:
"The wicked reigns supreme, the Immortal Dao is difficult!"
Behind him, atop the Immortal Platform, piles of White Bones accumulate like mountains.
The fragments of Daoist robes and broken Flying Swords are scattered among them, the scent of blood mixed with faint Dao Rhyme, pervasive and lingering.
These are all disciples of the Immortal Sect.
Boom——
