Seven days later.
On Buried Dragon Ridge, fifty li northwest of Great Xuan's Imperial Capital.
The mountains were steep and treacherous, their extraordinary peaks jutting high.
Where clouds and mist streamed among the peaks and ravines, a long, winding gorge could just be glimpsed, like a great dragon coiled amid the mountains, breathing clouds and mist. This was how Buried Dragon Ridge had earned its name.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Amid the shrill whistle of force cleaving the wind, several figures flew like cranes through the clouds. They burst through layer upon layer of mist, moving so quickly that they trailed strings of afterimages as they bounded and flashed toward the highest peak.
At the summit, cold winds swept fiercely, their chill penetrating to the bone.
Several figures came flying in, treating the sheer cliffs as nothing. They leaped onto the summit, abruptly changed direction, and descended like great birds, landing lightly.
The cold wind snapped their robes, yet their expressions remained unchanged. Only their eyes swept about, keen light flashing like lightning as though they were searching for something.
Had a well-traveled member of the martial world been present, the sight of these people might have startled their heart clean out of their chest.
Every one of them was a towering figure renowned throughout the land, a master at the very pinnacle of the martial world.
The middle-aged man in coarse hemp clothing, a longsword on his back and a face as stern as mountain stone, was Dugu Wuwu, master of the Sword Pavilion.
The burly, bald man whose muscles looked cast from refined steel was Hong Shan of the Indestructible Gate.
Known as Iron Wall, he had once used his hardened body to clash head-on with Foundation Establishment practitioners while still on the Strength Path. After cultivating true qi,