The third was the youngest, only around thirty, with ordinary looks—the sort of face you would forget the moment he was tossed into a crowd.
Luo Yi, the most promising witcher of this small tribe. But now, he had already been replaced by Lin Xuan. Having inherited his memories, Lin Xuan naturally recognized the two people before him.
The old man was called Sang Tuo. He was already one hundred and eighty this year, a Foundation Establishment Late Stage immortal cultivator. Although his cultivation was the highest, he had already reached the candle flickering in the wind of his final years, and there was no hope he would achieve Core Condensation in this life.
The burly man was somewhat younger, but he was also over a hundred years old. Moreover, he had not succeeded in Foundation Establishment for long, and his aptitude was only average.
Leaving aside those low-level witchers, among the three of them, Luo Yi was naturally the one with the greatest prospects and was deeply valued by the elder.
Although their cave residences were on the same mountain peak, they each cultivated on their own in ordinary times and rarely met. A nod to one another counted as having exchanged greetings.
Lin Xuan naturally would not say much. Otherwise, if he revealed a flaw, would that not be trying to be clever only to botch things?
The old man's expression was indifferent. He took a Sound Transmission Talisman from his chest, murmured a few words, then blew out a breath. It immediately turned into a streak of firelight and flew into the cave residence.
A moment later, the clouds and mist before their eyes suddenly churned violently. Accompanied by a low rumbling sound, they parted to both sides, revealing a passage.
The three looked at one another.