In the blink of an eye, the time for the Mount Hua Tournament arrived.
In the depths of winter, heavy snow swirled through the air. Gu Hui wore a snow-white sable coat as he arrived at Mount Hua's summit, where the heroes of the martial world had long since gathered.
The heroes fought in a free-for-all. Those unable to continue were eliminated, while those still standing continued competing.
Gu Hui did not take part in the fighting. He was merely a spectator, more interested in watching the show.
As time passed, more and more heroes were eliminated. In the end, only five remained capable of fighting.
One was broad and powerfully built, handsome in appearance, and dressed in luxurious robes. He was Duan Zhixing, the current emperor of Dali.
One wore ragged beggar's clothes that were nonetheless exceptionally clean, and he was missing a finger.
One wore a green robe, handsome and carefree, unrestrained in manner, his martial arts light and elegant.
One held a serpent staff and wore black from head to toe, exuding domineering might.
The last was a Daoist and the oldest of them all, around forty years old. His martial arts were slightly superior to the rest. From the fighting over the past few days, Gu Hui could tell that his skills were no weaker than Xiao Feng's from a century ago, perhaps even greater. Yet Gu Hui could also see that this man's strength had come at a tremendous cost.
He had likely failed while forcibly breaking through to the innate realm, causing his meridians to become overloaded.
Let alone in the long run, even if things continued as they were, he did not have much time left to live.
In the future, he would be one of the rare grandmasters. Regardless of his eventual