After a full day of rest, Shiheng had recovered completely in body and mind and had shaken off the stillness of his secluded enlightenment.
He packed his belongings and prepared to formally bid farewell to his old acquaintances at Baruch Castle.
Kailin, the War God, Linley, Tarrossa, and the other supreme experts all came to see him off.
Having fought side by side in the Tomb of the Gods, they had long since forged deep bonds. After a brief farewell and mutual wishes for safe journeys ahead, Shiheng turned and walked slowly toward the castle gates.
But before he could cross the threshold, a familiar, slightly uneasy figure happened to approach him.
It was Xifaman, whom he had not seen in many years.
Xifaman looked up unexpectedly and caught sight of Shiheng, whose bearing was unfathomable and whose composure made him seem like a god of the heavens. His entire body abruptly stiffened.
He instinctively stopped, his body slightly tense, his face filled with undisguisable restraint and joy.
His joy came from seeing an old friend.
His restraint came from the fact that Shiheng was no longer the young cultivator who had mingled with a mercenary squad and ventured through the Mountain Range of Magical Beasts.
He was a supreme God-level expert who towered over the entire Yulan Continent, renowned among all races, able to suppress mountains and rivers with a thought and annihilate an empire with a raised hand. His status could hardly have been more exalted.
By contrast, despite decades spent cultivating, Xifaman remained a warrior of the ninth rank peak, without having so much as touched the threshold of the Saint level.
Their present status, cultivation, and horizons were already worlds apart.
That immense disparity involuntarily filled Xifaman with a profound sense of distance and inferiority, making