Heading east.
One hundred li away from here, Wang Anfeng changed out of his blue robe and mask, swapping his bamboo sword for a wooden sword. He felt somewhat relieved and planned to follow Meng Huaijun's suggestion—sailing through the eastern sea to Penglai, then entering the Central Plains. Perhaps he might even get a chance to visit the Dongfang Clan's Penglai Pavilion.
A sudden and continuous sword hum, infused with the heavenly secrets divine weapon, disrupted his thoughts.
Wang Anfeng halted with his sword, turning to look. The dense grass on the prairie unnaturally leaned to one side and wouldn't rise again. In the direction he gazed, the sky clouds scattered, revealing a man about forty years old, with indifferent eyes, dressed in plain clothes, holding a sword.
The sword was broad and without a sheath.
The two confronted each other.
Great Qin Divine Martial Mansion.
Northern Hun Left Martial Guard.
......
Everywhere, dazzling ice and snow.
