"The Zhilan Sect Martial Saint attained the Dao roughly six to eight hundred years ago. It was said that luck played a major part in his sainthood. Back then, he was not the Holy Son of his generation, but after the Holy Son died during his breakthrough, he successfully entered the Saint Realm and became the Zhilan Sect's Holy Lord."
Any Martial Saint was a living legend in the five great regions. They had swept aside their peers, remained invincible all the way, ascended to the position of Holy Son, and then charged into the Saint Realm, transcending the mundane to become a Saint.
Only the Zhilan Sect Martial Saint was an exception. Though he had been gifted in his youth, he had never been a Holy Son-caliber figure. Compared to other Martial Saints, he did not have many dazzling achievements to his name.
Yet precisely because of this, ordinary Martial Kings worshipped him even more. They all hoped to live like the Zhilan Sect Martial Saint. Simply put, they treated him like chicken soup for the soul.
If only Holy Son-caliber figures could break into the Saint Realm, there would not be so many Martial Kings charging forward one after another to attempt the Saint Realm.
"Does he have any record of killing experts of the same level?" Wei Fan asked.
The wisp of aura he had collected in his hand was twitching, pointing out the location of the Zhilan Sect Martial Saint. Since they were about to make a move, he naturally wanted to learn as much as possible about his enemy.
In this battle, he intended to use the Zhilan Sect Martial Saint to establish his might, to intimidate every expert who had entered the Wasteland and tell them all that he, Wei Fan, was the king