Jiang Ding flew through the sky.
By now, the Minor World was no longer an incomparably vast expanse to him.
With the Six Paths of Order as his lever, he walked upon the rules themselves. Space had nearly lost all distance before him—at least within the observation range of a Deity Transformation Cultivator's divine sense. Ten thousand miles were as one step; there was no difference between the two.
At a certain moment, Jiang Ding stopped and looked down at the earth.
More precisely, he looked at a mountain range stretching several hundred kilometers across the ground. To a Deity Transformation Cultivator, it was merely a small mound of earth, something that could easily be blasted apart in a single strike. In truth, it did not deserve to be called a mountain range.
This mountain range was named East Spirit Mountain.
At least, that had been its name over four thousand years ago.
Now, in the minds of the surrounding mortals and cultivators, this mountain range seemed to be called Blue Iron Mountain, because it produced a mundane ore known as Blue Iron Ore. Weapons forged from it were the favorites of martial artists in the jianghu.
Over the millennia, the mountain range's name had changed many times—perhaps because of its minerals, perhaps because of an emperor, perhaps because of a great war, for all sorts of reasons.
The ancient name East Spirit Mountain had long been submerged beneath the river of time.
Yet in the hearts of this world's Deity Transformation Cultivators, its name remained East Spirit Mountain. It had never changed.
"This was where I first appeared."
"Over four thousand years ago..."
Jiang Ding said nothing, nor did he look anywhere in particular. He merely thought silently.
His gaze seemed to pierce through more than four thousand years