The Center of the Forbidden Zone

After Bai Yang and the others left, that white-haired ascetic fell into deep contemplation. His aged eyes stared at the campfire as his thoughts drifted off to somewhere unknown.

Dugu Qiubai, Zhang Sanfeng, Damo, First Emperor... Do these peerless powerheads truly exist? A swordsmanship that shatters all martial arts and secret techniques in the world, a boxing and sword martial path where hardness and softness integrate and yin and yang harmonize, an overbearing palm technique that blots out the sky with a single hand...

The white-haired ascetic muttered to himself, deeply shocked by the paragons of the age that Bai Yang had portrayed.

Legends were never lacking in this mortal world. The world was simply too large, and there were always some unknown, peerless figures. Thus, the white-haired ascetic did not harbor much doubt about the figures of the times that Bai Yang had depicted.

After falling silent for who knows how long, the white-haired old man took a deep breath and exhaled. His gaze turned resolute, seeming to solidify his own path even further, and he wanted to become one of those legendary figures depicted by Bai Yang.

If one day Bai Yang were to see other ascetics describing things and saying, "There was once such a person. He was lonely all his life, leaving his hometown to study in pursuit of the martial path, yet his aptitude was mediocre and he hit walls everywhere. Hence, he took on the most humble odd jobs, economized to buy the most ordinary saber manual, and from then on cultivated bitterly while supporting himself. Yet his talent was too poor, and every step forward took ten or a hundred times the effort of others... When his lifespan neared its end, he suddenly awakened: if he did not carve out an alternative shortcut,