In a ravine of yellow earth, on a barren ridge, Yang Hui was fleeing.
As the Eldest Senior Brother of the Samsara Dojo and the cream of his generation, Yang Hui ranked thirteenth among the two hundred seeded contestants in the Human Realm's First Martial Arts Tournament. He was extraordinarily gifted, and his strength was undeniable.
But at that moment, Yang Hui was fleeing like a stray dog.
"Damn it! Damn it! Why do these people keep hunting me down?!"
Yang Hui was irritated, but even more than that, he was terrified.
As the Samsara Dojo's chief disciple, Yang Hui had been pampered and held in high esteem. Even when facing Sages, he could remain neither servile nor overbearing, because he was the chief disciple of the Samsara Dojo, one of the Ten Great Sacred Lands.
But now he was being hunted down and driven into a sorry state. His pursuers included two Descendants of Divine Blood and two freaks at the upper King Rank who had appeared from who knew where. The others were not to be underestimated either; every one of them was a genius.
And for some reason, they were all pursuing him relentlessly.
No matter how high his ambitions soared, against a lineup like this, all he could do was run, run, run!
He had been fleeing for three days, but they still wouldn't give up the chase. Yang Hui seethed with hatred. "Damn it! Damn it! You bastards, just wait until I get out of the God-Fallen Battlefield. I'll make you pay."
His words were vicious, but Yang Hui knew that while any one of these geniuses might not amount to much alone, together they were a force even the Samsara Dojo wouldn't dare confront head-on. If he really died at their hands, the matter