The pearly glow of the teleportation gate in Luo Shui City had not yet faded behind him when a vast surge of spiritual energy enveloped Zuo Qianhu. It was far richer than even the most abundant spiritual leyline in the Red Dust Realm. It seeped through the gaps in his Darksteel Armor and surged along his meridians, warming his internal organs, still unsettled from the turbulence of the ascension passage.
He drew a deep breath, his chest swelling like a rumbling thunderclap. The aura of the Golden Immortal Realm around him stirred instinctively, forcing back several cultivators who had gathered nearby to stare at him curiously.
"What rich spiritual energy..." Zuo Qianhu murmured, his sharp eyes sweeping quickly across the plaza. The cultivators passing to and fro wore all kinds of clothing, some in fluttering robes and others in gleaming armor. Even the weakest among them were in the Heavenly Immortal Realm. Such a sight would have been a marvel in the Red Dust Realm.
He tightened his grip on the Pudao in his hand. Years of calluses had worn its hilt smooth. The hilts of the five Steel Blades on his back gleamed coldly in the sunlight. They had been his companions through tens of thousands of years spent slaying demons and eliminating evils. In his mind, a hazy figure from long ago surfaced once more. When Pudu Cihang's Demon Fire had nearly burned him to ashes, that person had appeared out of thin air, dispelled the demon's power with a flash of clear light from one fingertip, then sent a Martial Codex into his sea of consciousness, leaving behind only the words, "If fate allows, we'll meet again in the Primordial World."
Now he had finally set foot in this land, but the Primordial World was vast, and