At the very edge of the grassland's limits, the Nameless Mountains kept rising higher, bulging upward. Two powerful Heavenly Being martial artists were fleeing outward like mad.
One was dressed as a monk, Buddhist Dharma holy light floating behind his head. His aura was tyrannical, his movement technique extraordinary. As he swept through the air, illusory lotuses bloomed in his wake. Though fleeing for his life, his bearing remained undiminished. He was Monk Huikong, who had entered this Ancient Battlefield space with Meng Zhao and the others, only to become separated from them.
At that moment, he gripped a pale-green wooden fish in his hand, its surface covered in densely packed Sanskrit Characters and containing a vast aura. Clearly, Meng Zhao was not the only one to gain something within this Ancient Battlefield space. Monk Huikong had also reaped tremendous rewards.
The person traveling alongside him was not one of Meng Zhao's group, but rather a stranger who had never appeared before.
He stood roughly eight chi tall, broad and imposing, dressed in a bright yellow robe with jade at his waist. His long hair flowed loose, and his features were strikingly handsome. Yet fine lines showed at the corners of his eyes, proving that he was no longer young—at the very least, he was not truly a youth in his twenties as he appeared.
His aura was likewise exceptional. A twisted current of qi enveloped his body, forming whirlpools that endlessly drew in the surrounding vital energy and crushed it apart, using it to bolster his cultivation and true qi until they became ceaseless and boundless.
His movement technique was also exceedingly strange. Whenever he stepped through the void, countless chaotic streams of vital energy propelled him forward. He seemed to ride the wind, graceful and unrestrained yet swift