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While walking along the rear mountain of the Xinghai Sect, all Wang Sheng could sense was the heavy, somber gloom that hung over the land.
He had thought that a stroll could let him encounter immortals discussing the Dao in quiet courtyards, disciples wandering in shaded paths, or even an elder who hid unfathomable depth. However, all he saw were mountains and forests, and all he heard were low, hushed voices. On the rare occasions that he glimpsed people, they always hurried past as if they wished to avoid any socializing.
The Xinghai Sect's atmosphere felt nearly identical to the unaffiliated practitioners' district in the small city he had once stayed in.
Wang Sheng did not bring his greatsword. He simply wandered around as if inspecting his own backyard.
Soon, he noticed that his freedom of movement had become limited. On another peak, where the Xinghai Sect's true core was, he sensed two formidable auras. One of them felt familiar; it belonged to the vice sect master. He could go there if he wished, but he would require a suitable pretext.
Feeling too lazy to make one up, Wang Sheng turned to the scripture repository of the Xinghai Sect, which interested him the most. It was on an isolated peak protected by several layers of arrays.
Wang Sheng stepped on a white cloud, drifted to the boundary,...
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