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With Mister Mountain dead, Li Yuan withdrew his golden Immortal Form.
The terrifying, withered flame giant collapsed in an instant, disappearing behind him.
Like a fierce eagle in a dive, he swooped down and scooped up the yellow-scaled legacy armor of the Mountain Hall, along with three fluttering yellow banners.
But the banners were in tatters, no sooner did they touch his palm than they disintegrated into dust. The armor, too, had lost its luster, its brilliance faded to a dull shadow of what it once was.
Li Yuan's pupils contracted slightly. Still, he didn't hesitate. He dropped to the ground, one pale ghostly hand pressing against the earth, the other reaching into thin air.
Beneath the bed in the Clear Mind Hall, a ghostly hand silently emerged from the darkness. It tucked both the inner armor and the Red Sleeve Blade into a hidden compartment below.
Only then did Li Yuan pause. He didn’t leave. Instead, he cast an illusion and melted into the shadows, concealing himself nearby.
He waited. Quietly. Patiently. But no disciples from the Eastern Sea’s Immortal Domain came to investigate.
Perhaps that wasn’t surprising; those capable of reaching this level of cultivation weren’t...
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