The dock was paved with smooth bluestone slabs. A dozen or so disciples in fitted blue attire were on patrol. Their auras were steady and their gazes sharp; they were clearly trained martial artists.
The two disembarked from the boat, stepping onto the docks of Fushan Island.
Yang Jing looked up. In the island's interior, a cluster of peaks stood tall, arranged in a picturesque formation. Mist and clouds swirled between them, and pavilions and towers could be faintly seen dotting the landscape, creating a magnificent sight.
He thought to himself, 'Master once said the Xuanzhen Sect is divided into Seven Veins. These peaks must be their respective residences. Each vein occupies a single peak, forming its own system.'
The dozen or so disciples in blue patrolling the dock quickly noticed them.
These disciples stood with perfect posture, their uniforms identical. Though it was just a routine patrol, they exuded an oppressive pressure.
