The Post Sky Tipping Era

Suddenly.

At this very moment.

Accompanied by the rumble of dull thunder, bright flames burst forth outside the dilapidated temple. Along with the neighing of a steed, a wild and unrestrained laughter reverberated over the modest peak.

"Hahaha, Zhao Ge, don’t be naive. Today, not a single remnant of Zhao’s Martial Arts Hall will escape; all of you shall die right here."

Following that, a figure strode forward against the night sky, his movements agile. Within a few steps, he had charged to the peak and stood before the temple’s wide-open gate.

The man wore a gray robe. Although not particularly tall, his figure was robust, muscles bulging all over. The heat emanating from him hit one’s face even before he drew close.

"A Martial Artist of the Blood Refining Realm, Han Meng."

A sharp gleam flashed in Zhao Ge’s eyes as he smoothly rose from the ground and advanced unhurriedly, his aura gradually climbing, seemingly eager to rip apart the oncoming wave of heat, his body showing no trace of defeat.

Shou Hou and Rong Niang beside him were visibly moved.