Jiang Ding flew through the sky.
By now, a small world no longer seemed impossibly vast to him.
Using the order of the Six Paths as a lever, he walked upon the rules themselves. Space all but lost its distance before him—at least as far as a Spirit Transformation cultivator's divine sense could perceive. Ten thousand li were no different from a single step.
At one point, Jiang Ding stopped and gazed down at the earth.
More precisely, he looked at a mountain range stretching hundreds of kilometers. To a Spirit Transformation cultivator, it was a little mound that could be blasted away with a single strike. It hardly deserved to be called a mountain range.
Its name was Eastspirit Mountain.
At least, that had been its name more than four thousand years ago.
Now, the mortals and cultivators nearby seemed to know it as Blue Iron Mountain, because it produced an ordinary ore called blue iron. Swords and other weapons forged from it were favorites among martial artists.
Over the millennia, the mountain range had changed names many times—sometimes because of its minerals, sometimes because of an emperor, sometimes because of a great battle.
The ancient name Eastspirit Mountain had long since sunk beneath the tides of time.
But in the minds of this world's Spirit Transformation cultivators, it was still Eastspirit Mountain. Its name had never changed.
This is where I first appeared.
More than four thousand years ago...
Jiang Ding said nothing and looked nowhere in particular. He only thought in silence.
His gaze seemed to pierce through more than four thousand years, back to the moment a bewildered high school student first appeared in this world.
That student had been fifteen or sixteen, dressed in color-shifting camouflage. A drone circled more than two thousand meters overhead