The layers of clouds rose like mountains, winding away for thousands of miles.
Giant vines intertwined, coiling up into the heavens.
A divine tree encompassed endless mountains and rivers, the four seasons, and streams, springs, and waterfalls.
Countless spirit plants clustered around Zhao Yao. Immortal aura surged, and clouds swirled like emerald ribbons.
A figure in a black robe, a saber on his back, hesitated among them, brushing past flowers and willows as he walked, like an inconspicuous little bug.
Under the system's control, Pei Ling walked forward step by step.
As he climbed, more and more laws of order were imposed upon him.
Invisible chains layered over one another, and his aura rose steadily. His terrifying pressure shook the surroundings. Wherever it reached, plants withered and mountains and rivers fell silent, as if all had been cowed by him. His might had already reached a level ordinary immortals could scarcely hope to attain.
Clouds surged in vast torrents, like rivers and seas rolling endlessly, whipping at his sleeves.
Pei Ling took a step, and several clumps of Spirit Flowers poked their heads out through the mist, their lively leaves and branches swaying as if they were dancing.
This place was already high up on Jian Mu. The clouds were within reach, yet the continuous, ethereal palaces, along with the many flower-adorned celestial maidens of peerless grace, still lay far beyond, in the vault of heaven.
Amid drifting immortal music, each step upward brought a colossal pressure crashing down, as if it meant to knock every living thing on Jian Mu back into the dust.
The Immortal Palace stood majestic and magnificent, while celestial maidens wandered like flowers.
The seemingly empty void pressed against him like something solid. Every step felt as though he were walking through Ten-Thousand-Year Black Iron.