As Lin Fan beheaded the Death God.
Two kilometers away from Wolf God Valley, on a certain small hillock.
An elderly man stood at the forefront, draped in a snow-white Arctic bear fur robe, letting the cold wind whip across his face without changing his expression. His eyes were as sharp as a falcon's, fixated on the battlefield ahead.
Behind this elder, seven or eight people stood scattered, each one of them incredibly respectful, standing with their hands tied, as if they were children. If someone were present, they would realize that these individuals were all super-strong beings renowned on the Martial Arts World's Grandmaster List. Yet, now, they stood reverently behind the elder.
Suddenly, the elder spoke, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement:
"How many years has it been? Huaxia has actually produced such a genius, a fortunate event for the country!"
"Yue Wushuang, that old fellow, is probably paying attention to this battle too, right?"
