Cao Zhen flew north all the way, and before long, a range of towering, continuous mountains appeared before his eyes.
Looking more carefully, he could see that in the middle of the range stood a single, highest peak; the other mountains clustered around it like stars around the moon, guarding it at the center.
This mountain rose straight into the clouds, mist coiling around its summit like white silk dancing atop the peak, exuding a mysterious and tranquil aura.
This should be the Holy Mountain those residents spoke of.
Cao Zhen continued flying forward, and soon noticed one Cultivator after another converging from all directions, flying just like he was.
Yet no matter which Cultivator it was, as soon as they flew near the Holy Mountain, they all seemed to lose the ability to fly and plunged straight down.
