"Immortal light shone from afar, yet up close, there was nothing remarkable about it!"
Yan Wushuang spoke gravely, puzzled, while his eyes cautiously surveyed his surroundings.
The Divine Mountain before them was no different from an ordinary barren mountain. Its peak was not particularly high, rising only a thousand zhang.
It was neither lofty nor steep.
It resembled an utterly ordinary barren mountain.
Yet on closer inspection, it looked like an enormous tomb standing upon the earth.
By now, many figures stood around its foot.
At a rough glance, there were no fewer than a thousand people.
Even the weakest were in the Dao Palace Realm. Some powerful cultivators had already reached the mountainside and were gazing toward the summit.
Suddenly, an angry voice rang out from halfway up the mountain.
"How could you act like this?"
"Aren't you afraid we'll join forces and kill you?"
The speaker was an old man with white hair and a white beard, his face covered in wrinkles.
Such an appearance was exceedingly rare among powerful cultivators, as though his vitality had faded.
Yet his aura was as vast as the sun, striking fear into those who felt it.
"A Half-Step Mighty One?"
Feeling the old man's aura, Yang Wuzheng spoke solemnly.
This was likely a Half-Step Mighty One nearing the end of his lifespan.
He had come in search of fortune and something that could prolong his life.
More than two hundred thousand years ago, the Fighting Saint Emperor had failed to become a Battle Immortal, triggering a great transformation of heaven and earth.
Countless ancient races had fallen into slumber, unwilling to emerge again.
Now, more than two hundred thousand years later, Heaven and Earth Essence had grown increasingly thin, and resources increasingly scarce. Even treasure medicines and spirit medicines had degenerated.