The figure wore a blue robe. He was tall and straight, with sharply defined features, swordlike brows, bright eyes, a high nose, and the faintest hint of a smile at his lips.
No pressure radiated from him. Even his aura was deeply restrained, making him seem like an ordinary young man.
But the instant Great Emperor Chenwu saw his face, he froze.
His fingers tightened sharply around the Chenwu Sword. His pupils shrank to pinpoints, then widened again the next instant, like a lake struck by a giant stone.
His lips moved, but no sound came out.
His body trembled slightly, like the lingering vibration of a string plucked after being drawn taut for too long.
He recognized that face.
Tens of thousands of years had passed. The youthful brashness had faded from that face, replaced by the steadiness and depth of someone who had weathered countless storms. But its contours had not changed, nor had the distinctive quality in his eyes and brows.
Fang Chen.
The young man who had set foot on the Path to Heaven from the Barbaric Ancient Region tens of thousands of years ago.
The legendary figure who had united the Barbaric Ancient Region, brought together the Myriad Races, and broken down the barriers between sects by his own strength.
The peerless prodigy everyone believed had long since fallen on the Path to Heaven.
He had returned.
"Daoist Friend Fang Chen?"
Great Emperor Chenwu's voice was rasped raw, like wood rubbed countless times with sandpaper. Every word trembled despite his efforts to hold steady.
Fang Chen stood at the edge of the Space Vortex, his blue robe snapping in the starlight. His gaze swept over the faces below, at once familiar and strange. It paused on Great Emperor Chenwu, and he gave a slight nod.