Fame Spreads Across the Seas

Western Mausoleum.

Since the Three Sects, Four Temples had fallen into ruin, the Rakshasa Cult had seized the opportunity to rise with the tide, championing a new doctrine: return power to the people.

Faith belonged to religion; the mortal world belonged to the state.

The seventy-two feudal states that had once been subordinate to the Buddhist sects unhesitatingly switched their allegiance to the Rakshasa Cult.

In less than a year,

Western Mausoleum had undergone a complete transformation.

At this moment, in East Desert Town, which bordered the Western Mausoleum Corridor, countless merchants traveling to and from Great Xia stopped to rest.

Within a roadside teahouse, merchants and travelers came and went amid boisterous clamor, yet one figure stood out as particularly unusual.

He was a middle-aged man draped in a black robe, tall and slender. Propping his chin with one hand, he sat quietly in the teahouse with an air of idle calm, utterly out of place amid the bustling, feverishly busy atmosphere.

His features were not particularly striking, yet he possessed a uniquely flamboyant bearing—a confidence tempered through a thousand hammerings and a hundred refinements. To cultivate such an aura, he must have been a frequent victor. Or rather, he had not lost for a very, very long time—perhaps never.

A faint smile rested on his lips. His expression was amiable, yet it carried an indistinct distance and indifference.

The passing crowds flowed through his eyes like water, reflected there without ever lingering, while he...

Seemed never to have regarded anyone,

As worth seeing.

"Hey, have you heard?"

"Shen Yi, first on the Heavenly Rankings, is holding a Gathering of Celestials at Mount Tai, inviting heroes from all under heaven to establish a new order for the martial world."

At a tea table not far away, several rough men