Return to One
There was no mistaking it. In a special place called Angel of Peace, where entry was allowed but leaving was not, he had once encountered the former head of the academy—a Dean Feng whose full name he had never learned.
He still remembered their friendly discussion about kite-flying techniques, killing opponents with a burst of power while on the brink of death, and long-handled weapons.
Not only did his appearance and aura match; even his current supernatural rank was proof.
As it turned out, he really was the sort of fighter who could leave an opponent barely alive but never finish them off. Even across parallel worlds, he seemed destined never to reach the higher ranks. Compared with the other spectators in the front row, he was quite ordinary.
Judging by how white his hair and beard were, it was fairly safe to say this wasn't a younger version of him, nor had he spent years wasting away in the Crucible.
Of course, his presence was still impressive. The old man had his eyes narrowed, staring intently at the center of the crowd.
Something silver-white radiated waves of cold. Its edges were sharp and unadorned. It looked like a rather crude... freezer?
Inside, he could clearly see a corpse with its face covered.
Male. Supernatural. Unmistakably dead. And because of the unique contamination that came with being supernatural, even the refrigerated cabinet couldn't suppress it. A distinct Academy of Revelation scent emanated from the body.
He'd been dead for some time. And, for all he knew, he really had been brought over from the Academy of Revelation.
He quickly reached two conclusions, then shifted his gaze to the people beside the corpse.
A man and a woman stood on either side, clearly the main figures at this