Qi Ji's loud recitation of poetry high in the sky naturally did not escape Elder Wu, who had remained stationed at Dragon Valley.
As a Titled Douluo, his senses covered the area around Dragon Valley's entrance. Not the slightest disturbance could escape his notice.
Thus, just as Qi Ji finished reciting his poem and stepped out of the spatial rift, Elder Wu had already followed that vast aura of the Dragon Clan, so dense it seemed almost tangible, and hurried over.
Although five years had passed, Elder Wu clearly still remembered Qi Ji.
Leaning on his ebony cane, he stood hunched over the snow on the mountaintop, his graying hair whipping wildly in the wind.
Compared with five years ago, he had aged further. His wrinkles had deepened, and his once-sharp eyes had grown considerably cloudier.
But when his gaze landed on the tall figure in midair, a sudden gleam flashed through those cloudy eyes.
"You... are you that lord?"
Elder Wu's voice trembled slightly, and his fingers unconsciously tightened around his cane.
Things were different from five years ago. Ever since witnessing Qi Ji's draconic might back then, Elder Wu had never been able to forget it.
That sense of submission from deep within his bloodline, that suppression that made even his blue lightning tyrant dragon martial soul tremble—he would remember them for the rest of his life.
Now, Elder Wu gazed at Qi Ji with the same reverence, bowing so low that he looked even more humble than when he had knelt five years earlier.
"Elder Wu, it's been a long time!"
Qi Ji lowered his head to look at the hunched old man on the mountaintop, his tone gentle.
Although Qi Ji had only met him once five years ago, he had to admit that, as the