The Style Is All Wrong (Please Vote)

After a moment of disorientation, Meng Qi rose to his feet. Not far away stood Jiang Zhiwei, the girl from Sword Washing Pavilion he had seen yesterday; Zhang Yuanshan, a disciple of the True Martial Sect; Qing Jing, successor of Xuan Tianzong; Qi Zhengyan, an ordinary disciple of the Huanhua Sword Sect; and several other Martial World figures of varying appearances.

Everyone wore different expressions. Those who knew one another gathered together and spoke in hushed voices, frowning.

In the end, they reached a startling conclusion: many of the people gathered here had been scattered across the lands north and south of the great river, separated by countless miles, yet they had all been abducted here together!

This discovery filled everyone with alarm.

"This is..."

Jiang Zhiwei, the girl in yellow, frowned and glanced at the tongue-tied Meng Qi. "Little monk, do you know something?"

Qing Jing, Xuan Tianzong's successor, suddenly turned toward Meng Qi and roared, "What does Shaolin want? Do you want to become the enemy of every sect?"

"I..."

Meng Qi rubbed his smooth bald head and could not help rolling his eyes.

Even if this had something to do with Shaolin Temple, what could a mere menial like him, a minor figure who had only just completed Hundred Days Foundation Establishment, possibly know?

As he complained inwardly, before he could speak, he saw the clouds and mist around them begin to churn.

Clang—

A long, resonant bell rang out, sweeping away the clamor across the plaza and drawing everyone's attention.

Immediately afterward, a massive screen of light over thirty meters wide descended from beneath the dome. At the same time, a vast divine voice, like the evening drum and morning bell, resounded:

"Welcome to the Main Hall of Reincarnation. You may call me Yuan, or you