It was precisely dusk.
Mother Earth embraced the sky and welcomed the twilight.
The distant heavens suddenly darkened.
Only a few streaks of splendid color still lingered where drifting clouds met the mountaintops.
Yet such magnificent scenery could not put anyone at ease.
The air was terrifyingly silent.
The young man in splendid robes sat upright in his wheeled chair, his expression grave, his body taut as though he might spring straight out of it.
He stared fixedly in one direction, not daring to shift his gaze in the slightest, as if some calamity beyond even his imagination would occur the moment he looked away.
The swordsman in a bamboo hat pressed a hand against the neither-large-nor-small case at his waist.
Sword qi tore through the overcast sky like a soaring gale, then abruptly froze in place.
Because the wielder of the sword had not moved.
The glow of the dry tobacco paused in its alternating flicker, then began burning again like a bright lamp.
No surprise flashed through the gray-robed old man's eyes, as though he had long expected the arrival of that black silhouette.
After coughing twice, he said calmly, "I never expected you truly received divine aid."
"Old Man Cui, what do you mean by that?"
The swordsman pressed down on his sword case and asked, astonishment mingling with confusion in his voice.
Deep suspicion even flashed through his eyes.
This was far too abnormal.
Using escape arts within the Land of Divine Prohibition inflicted tremendous damage upon oneself.
The rejection of mana made it impossible for them to fly within their escape lights.
How could this person still arrive so quickly?
Most importantly, they had taken up position on this hill to deal with the Saint using intelligence, yet the Saint had come knocking directly at