White Lotus Experts

"Not bad, old thing. But do you really think you can fight all of us by yourself?"

Killing Fist cursed wildly, his brows and eyes fierce, his bearing arrogant.

Although Xia Hong, Xia Shu, Chang Yangzi, Han Xing, and Duàn Yì all appeared unaffected by the Sorrowful Crisp Clear Wind, he clearly had not taken any of them seriously.

The only one he truly believed could threaten his group was the Immeasurable Elder.

At this moment, Duàn Yì finally had the leisure to tear his gaze away from the tense, thrilling confrontation and examine the people beside him.

An elderly woman with a head of silver hair, a face round as a full moon, and a wooden staff in hand, looking kind and approachable.

She was certainly advanced in years, yet traces of the beauty and loveliness she had possessed in her youth could still faintly be seen between her brows.

Even standing beside the foul-mouthed Killing Fist, she still possessed a tranquil, peaceful air. No one who saw her would connect her with the White Lotus Sect's fiends.

To the old woman's right stood a Daoist with his hair tied in a topknot, a jade hairpin tucked into it, and a whisk cradled in his hands. He had the air of an immortal beyond the dust of the world.

His face was lean, his brows short and thick, and his eyes shone brightly with intelligence, as though they could see through every illusion and falsehood.

His Daoist robe was black and white, like yin and yang merging together. Its fabric and workmanship were no less refined than the noble attire of the Prince's Manor, making it clear that he too knew how to enjoy life.

"Wusheng Laomu. True Void Daoist. It's them."

Though he had never met them before,