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Suddenly, Daoist Huayang’s expression shifted as he turned his gaze toward someone. It was Zhao Songqiao, a man already in his sixties.
Though wrinkles carved deep lines at the corners of his eyes, his face was resolute. With his eyes tightly shut, he slowly turned his head, always keeping it aligned with a wisp of yin-yang qi circling around him.
Seeing this, Daoist Huayang quickly retrieved the jade slip containing the new disciples’ records. After checking Zhao Songqiao’s entry, he sighed. "Too old. He still has some hope of cultivating other arts, but if he divides his focus to temper the Yin-Yang Armor, he will never reach the Foundation Building Realm…"
The old Daoist shook his head slowly, then shifted his attention to the others.
The incarnation was darting through the illusion. Here, time and space were illusory. He had no idea...
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