Bai Xinghan could not help but roar in shock. Even Lightning Arrow was so frightened that it staggered back again and again, cold sweat pouring down its body.
The old beggar looked somewhat haggard. He wore a mottled cloth robe stained with grease and weathered by wind and frost. His hair was like a bundle of withered yellow grass, hanging in a wild mess across his forehead.
His beard grew in disorder from his chin, resembling an untrimmed clump of weeds. He was utterly unkempt.
Yet despite his bedraggled appearance, the old beggar's eyes revealed profound wisdom.
The accumulation of years had not dulled the sharpness in his gaze. Instead, it made the resilience within that weatheredness all the more apparent. He might have looked lazy and unrestrained, but his eyes carried the weariness of one who had seen through all worldly affairs.
No one knew the old beggar's origins. Not even his disciple, Bai Xinghan, knew, much less what level of the Immortal Path his master had reached.
The sect had no name. It was the Nameless Sect.
In the Desolate Heaven Domain, where the strong devoured the weak, having a sect name was not necessarily a good thing. Besides, this nameless sect only had them... If Bai Xinghan had not come, it truly would have been passed down through a single line.
In any case, the old beggar always looked as though his days were numbered, often making Bai Xinghan and Silly Eagle raise their heads to the heavens and weep in grief as they congratulated their master on his ascension.
Yet afterward, the old beggar would always appear before them brimming with life, saying that he could probably live for a few more years, having just happened to break through to a major realm...
Without a care,