On the island.
At the peak of a mountain, a red-haired old man stood at the edge of a cliff.
Sometimes he looked towards the distant sea, sometimes swept his gaze around the surrounding mountains and rivers, with a hint of hesitation hidden in his eyes.
Indeed!
He is Wang Yishan.
The vast mountain peak seemed to host only him, but in fact, it was fraught with danger.
In the forest behind him, eleven people stood at this moment.
The leader was a white-haired Old Man, dressed in a black robe, with a gloomy complexion and eyes filled with astonishing murderous energy.
The other ten, some old, some young, stood behind the white-haired Old Man, concealing their presence, like venomous snakes ready to strike, firmly locking onto Wang Yishan.
Besides these eleven, there were two others.
These two stood one in front of the other on the opposite mountain peak.
The one in front was a white-haired old man, seemingly ethereal, but with a ruthless glare in his eyes.
