High above the drifting sea of clouds.
Li Qingmu stood poised atop his flying sword with hands clasped casually behind his back.
The wind whipped through his long black hair.
His pristine and elegant robes fluttered without a single crease out of place.
He was several kilometers away from the misty outlines of Immortal Cloud City now.
His main destination was much further ahead.
Immortal Table Mountain.
The mountain earned its name for good reason. It rose as a colossal flat-topped giant, its summit so perfectly level and broad that from a distance it resembled an enormous table carved by divine hands. Thick, pristine white clouds often settled across the plateau like a spotless tablecloth draped over fine furniture to give the peak an otherworldly elegance that cultivators dreamed of claiming.
Two great sects divided the mountain between them.
On the eastern face stood the Exalted Sage School that cultivated the will and spirit.
