The great wind rose, and the clouds soared.
Old Cang's figure emerged amid the slowly descending gale.
"I'll give you three moves, lest you say I'm bullying you."
Xu Zimo raised his head and looked toward the speaker.
The old man wore a single braided queue atop his head, like the braids kept by men of old, giving him a scholarly air.
He wore a green robe embroidered with incomprehensible patterns, his eyes steady and composed.
His nose was flat, his lips dry and cracked.
As he approached, the might of a Great Saint radiated from him without restraint.
Powerful strength surged forth without end.
Like mountains toppling and seas overturning, it bore down on Xu Zimo in one overwhelming wave, as though displaying his might.
"Kid, don't say I didn't give you a chance to make a move," the old man said.
"I'll let you have three moves. I won't attack first."
"Who are you?" Xu Zimo asked bluntly.
"He is one of Haotian Sect's three Great Saints, Ancestor Wu Ling," Wu Zhaodi quickly introduced from the side.
"The three strongest figures in Haotian Sect are Ancestor Wu Ling, Wutian, and the world's First Swordsman, Qi Haoran."
"A Great Saint of the First Realm, Unrivaled," Xu Zimo concluded after sensing the pressure emanating from him.
He had previously heard Baimeng speak of the five realms of Great Saints.
This old man should only be Unrivaled of the First Realm.
But even the First Realm was not something a Great Emperor could compare with.
"Among Haotian's three ancestors, Ancestor Wu Ling and Wutian should both be Unrivaled," Wu Zhaodi said.
"I only heard it from others. Only Qi Haoran's realm is a mystery.
He was already Eternal ten thousand years ago. No one knows what level he has reached now."