Moonlight fell over Yuanling Marsh. A figure in blue robes tore through the trees, staggering, while the eerie rustle of leaves followed close behind like a living shadow. Several dead branches slithered after the figure like poisonous snakes. Qingyi moved his hand, an immortal technique rippling across his palm, and vanished from sight beneath an old tree. The dead wood that had been chasing him lost its bearing and hung motionless in the air. Qingyi let out a breath, his familiar face finally visible. He was the chief disciple of Dazeshan, and never before had he looked so wretched. He turned to study the black mass of forest behind him, frowning. What exactly was hiding in there? Then the leaves stirred again, a sound sharp enough to hurt. A stray leaf, coming from nowhere, tore a gap in the spirit barrier shielding him, and the tree at his back suddenly sprouted countless vines that bound him fast without warning. Not good. Qingyi's pupils narrowed. The dead wood hovering ...
"Hey, have you heard? Something huge happened at the Wutong Martial Banquet this time!" "Do you even need to say it? Our Immortal Realm produced such a stunning figure, word's already spread through all Three Realms!" "A Young Lord who's only cultivated for three years, that hasn't happened in a thousand years. I hear Immortal Elder Jinyao wants to take him up to the Heavenly Palace, accept him as a disciple, and personally guide his cultivation." "Tsk tsk, Piaomiao can finally hold its head high. Young Lord Chongzhao won the Wutong Martial Banquet for our race and secured the hundred mile blessed land, that's no small feat. With a figure like him, I doubt Piaomiao will wait a hundred years before the rank of the Three Mountains falls to them." "Now that's getting ahead of things. Kunlun and Yunxiao have a thousand years of foundation, they won't be replaced so easily. Besides, what you're talking about is sma...