"Like the wind... like the waves... like the ocean reminiscent of an abyss... In this world, indeed, each person's methods emerge in succession, until the very end, none can tell who the victor is."
Dongfang Mu stands on the topmost floor of his own earthen fortress, gazing into the distant scenery.
The rising morning sun resembles a red yolk, tender, round, yellow. Anyone who sees it would want to take a bite.
But those who dare approach and bite, none are simple.
"Teacher, is it perhaps unwise for us to rashly ally with the Human Immortal Temple now?"
Behind Dongfang Mu, stood a row of male and female disciples dressed in various attires.
These disciples are dressed like old farmers, wealthy merchants, and even ordinary songstresses in dresses, altogether about ten people, seemingly encompassing every profession.
Yet all of them, at this moment, looked at Dongfang Mu with sincerity and worry.
Worried if the teacher's health could recover after his injury.
