Six streaks of differently colored sword light tore through the sky at astonishing speed.
These six were Dan Lingsheng, Ao Huang, Xiao Feng, and the others, sent by Yu Ruochen to North Mang.
All six wore grave expressions.
Kunlun now held sway over the world. Its disciples were all proud and aloof, faintly displaying an attitude of no longer regarding disciples of other sects as worthy of notice. Nan Liyue and Zhuo Chendao had ostensibly gone to Shushan to seek aid, yet they had subtly been ordering Shushan about.
Shushan had several thousand disciples, chiefly cultivating flying sword arts, and possessed an even sharper, unyielding spirit.
How could such a sect be willing to bow beneath others and be commanded at will?
Thus, even without Yu Ruochen saying it, Dan Lingsheng and the others could vaguely sense that, with Kunlun standing on the brink of peril, the relationship between the two sects had already become taut as drawn bows.
Though Yu Ruochen had not stated his final words outright, Dan Lingsheng understood their meaning clearly: "Rather than let Ye Zhaonan be captured alive by Kunlun, it would be better to kill Ye Zhaonan!"
"It has only been a dozen or so years since I last came to North Mang, yet it has already changed so greatly! The turning of the world's fortune has reached such a point!"
Before the six men, a mountain forest stretching for hundreds of miles soon appeared. At a single glance, Dan Lingsheng could not help but feel a chill rise within him.
North Mang, the tail end of Long Mountain, stretched across four or five hundred miles of ridges. Its aura was flourishing and prosperous. For thousands of years, countless royal houses and noble clans had buried their dead here. Thus, though Yin energy was