Zhongsheng Continent.
Luo River.
The mighty river stretched on and on, flowing without cease from the Nine-Row Mountain Lineage in northwestern Zhongsheng Continent down to the southeast, cutting diagonally across the continent.
A forest lay west of the Luo River. It was morning now, and mist shrouded both forest and river so thickly that anyone who wandered inside could scarcely see their own fingers.
Within the dense fog, however, two figures in Daoist robes sat cross-legged deep in the forest, chatting idly on and off.
"...Was it really that formidable?"
Of the two, the youthful cultivator wore a skeptical expression.
His attitude immediately made the middle-aged cultivator opposite him widen his eyes.
"Of course! I saw it with my own eyes. After the two former palace masters of the Yuan Magnetic Palace joined forces to swiftly kill the West King of the True Martial Path, his body actually fled back to his own lines on its own, even though his divine soul had clearly been annihilated. Had you been there too, Brother, you would understand how uncanny these True Martial Practitioners are."
The youthful cultivator could not help looking astonished.
"His divine soul was gone, yet his physical body could still flee on its own? True Martial Practitioners can even do that?"
The middle-aged man wore an expression that said, "Of course," and shook his head as he explained.
"These True Martial Practitioners are different from us. We cultivate Daoist methods and techniques and contemplate the Great Dao, but they only temper that physical body of theirs. Of the thousand techniques and ten thousand Great Daos, they take only a single ladleful, and do only this one thing. That is why they can all advance so quickly in such a short time."
"Take the West King, for example. He was