West of Yan Han.
Across the grasslands, a herdsman was driving his flock of sheep when he suddenly spotted a monk in blue robes, heading west with one bow every three steps and one prostration every nine.
He had handsome features, a gleaming bald head, and tattered clothes, yet his expression was utterly devout.
"Are you from Yan Han?"
The herdsman shouted at the top of his lungs, "How about a cup of fermented sheep's milk?"
Jiang Liuer did not pause in the slightest. He simply continued westward.
The herdsman stood there dumbfounded behind him. Across the grassland, snow lotuses burst into bloom one after another.
The monk's retreating figure had already vanished.
Watching the direction in which Jiang Liuer had departed, the herdsman could not help kneeling down...
Kunlun Mountain.
The immense Shenshan City towered vast and majestic. It was the progenitor of the world's Earth Veins, its splendor taking myriad forms.
Yet Zhong Shenxiu had spoken the Mandate of Heaven and established the laws of the Heavenly Dao. Aside from the deities of the mountain itself, no one since King Mu, from ancient times to the present, had been able to set foot within Kunlun's domain.
The Palace Under Heaven.
This was a force jointly founded by Kunlun's surviving people and cultivators. Every year, cultivators traveled thousands of miles to come here, only to stop before the foot of Kunlun Mountain. Some left dejectedly, while others settled down, hoping to move the deities with their sincerity. Alas, the deities had never pitied mortals simply because of their persistence.
Some of these cultivators had already passed down their legacies for dozens of generations, yet they had never once witnessed Kunlun show mercy—until this day.
"Hey, look! What's that?"
At the foot of Kunlun Mountain, a group of low-level