Was it him? Could the senior who had left behind only a blurry silhouette and the words "We'll meet again in the Primordial World, if fate allows" all those years ago really be Jiang He, the Human Race's Clan Leader?
The farther he walked, the stronger that familiar aura became. It wasn't the scent of spiritual energy, but a faint trace left in his sea of consciousness when that clear light had dispelled the Demon Fire all those years ago. It had never faded, even after tens of thousands of years. Now, in this courtyard, it had become unmistakable.
"We're here." Lei Yu stopped and called toward the gate. "Clan Leader, I've brought Zuo Qianhu to see you!"
Jiang He's steady voice came from inside the hall. "Come in."
Zuo Qianhu took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of emotion in his heart, and followed Lei Yu into the hall. Its furnishings were simple but imposing. A man in a black robe sat in the seat of honor at the center. His expression was calm, his brows carried a hint of authority, yet he seemed gentle as well. His aura appeared placid, but Zuo Qianhu felt a weight as immense as a mountain from him. It seemed that if the man wished, a mere thought could reduce Zuo Qianhu's soul to nothing.
It was this aura!
Zuo Qianhu's pupils contracted sharply, and his whole body shuddered. His Darksteel Armor clanged. Though the blurry silhouette from all those years ago had been impossible to make out, the aura around it had been exactly the same as the Clan Leader's before him!
For tens of thousands of years, he had struggled to survive amid the mountains of corpses and seas of blood in the Red Dust Realm. He had relied on that