Soaring Snake Mountain, Flying Horse Market.
Wan Yingying stood amid layers of clouds, looking down at Flying Horse Market several hundred li away.
She had grown up in Flying Horse Market. Her father had died there as well. Back then, she had been alone and helpless; fortunately, Gao Xian and Zhou Yuling had taken her in. That was how the sixth-rank Pure Yang cultivator Wan Yingying of today had come to be.
Flying Horse Market carried her childhood, as well as her joy and pain.
She truly had far too many memories of this place.
Returning to Flying Horse Market after four thousand years, Wan Yingying found that it had changed beyond recognition. Its streets were neat and orderly, sturdy, imposing walls surrounded it, and several towers had been built atop those walls, fitted with Dharma Artifacts resembling crossbows.
Several squads of armored cultivators patrolled around the outer walls. Fixed sentry posts stood in various places as well.
These cultivators all wore black garments of a fixed design, resembling short, two-piece brown robes. Yet the fabric was thick and sturdy, the style simple and crisp. The clothes fit close to the body while retaining a sharp cut, making the cultivators look exceedingly capable.
They also wore identical waist-length lamellar armor, with kneeguards on their legs and tall boots.
The lamellar armor had broad, thick belts hung with small Dharma Artifacts of peculiar design. Every cultivator wore exactly the same clothing and Dharma Artifacts.
They appeared exceptionally disciplined and orderly, even carrying an air of stern valor.
Such black-clad cultivators could also be seen on the level streets, except they wore no armor. These black-clad cultivators seemed to be specially responsible for maintaining order.
Wan Yingying had cultivated in seclusion deep within the East Sea for several hundred years. Only a