At the edge of a sheer cliff on Dragon Head Peak, bitter winds howled.
This place was far from the main battlefield, and amid the distant, earthshaking cries of slaughter and booming Spiritual Power, it seemed eerily quiet.
Xiang Zhaoling stood atop the cliff, gazing down at the battlefield, her heart heavy with worry.
Beside her stood a tall, powerfully built man with rugged features and bronze skin, draped in a heavy cloak made from the hide of some unknown beast.
Wildness suffused his entire being.
They stood right at the cliff's edge, in a position that was hardly concealed.
Occasionally, Dongyuan disciples fleeing in panic or Devil Cultivators pursuing them flew low past the area. Some even flew directly in front of them.
Yet, strangely, everyone's gaze passed straight over their position without anyone paying them any attention, as though there were only an ordinary mountain rock there, a patch of empty air.
Even when that Golden Core cultivator swept his divine sense over the area, he detected nothing.
The burly man lowered his head slightly, his gaze calm as he surveyed the hellish scene below.
"Brother!" Looking rather flustered, Xiang Zhaoling caught his cloak and shook it gently. "Did you hear that? They're calling my name-the name I used in the Central Plains."
"Help them, save them! With your strength, that would be easy, wouldn't it?"
They were not speaking the language of the Chu Kingdom. Had Zhou Mengdie been there, she would have recognized the accent of the Wuqiu tribes of the Southern Border.
Her eyes brimmed with pleading. "Please! Brother, I can't just watch my dear friends die-"
Asanggu finally shifted his gaze from the battlefield below to his younger sister's small face, which was covered in tears.
His heart clenched. He raised his heavily calloused