"Why have cultivators from Snowfall Pavilion and Crescent Moon Valley come at this hour?"
"Previous Disciple-Selection Ceremonies rarely invited cultivators from other sects to attend."
"Could something have changed again concerning the Cold Mist Spirit Stone Mine?"
Looking at the two treasures, Liu Yu frowned, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.
As for the two sects joining forces to attack their gates? That was impossible. A handful of Golden Core cultivators could not shake the Primordial Yang Sect.
He turned and surveyed his surroundings. The many fellow disciples attending the Disciple-Selection Ceremony all looked surprised and puzzled-even Sect Master Zhuang Ziling was no exception.
Clearly, the cultivators from Snowfall Pavilion and Crescent Moon Valley had arrived unexpectedly. No one had received word beforehand.
The two streaks of escape light, one red and one white, swept forward with rainbow-like grandeur, swiftly approaching the True Yang Daoist Ground.
Suddenly, Liu Yu's keen spiritual perception detected an almost imperceptible fluctuation. He looked sharply above the Daoist Ground, his pupils contracting.
A figure in a loose, dark teal Daoist robe had appeared above the Daoist Ground at some unknown moment.
The man looked toward the two streaks of escape light, hovering quietly without relying on any magical artifact or treasure.
He appeared to be in his forties or fifties, with a two-inch black beard, a thin face, sharply defined features, and fair skin. He possessed an unshakable steadiness, like a mountain standing unmoved.
He was like a sword resting in its sheath: silent until drawn, but certain to astonish everyone once it emerged.
Is that... True Person Changfeng, whom I once saw from afar?
Liu Yu was startled.
Flying without the aid of an object was one of the hallmarks of a Golden Core cultivator. This man was undoubtedly one of his sect's Golden