Martial Saint Island.
On the massive white square, people from various sects came and went. The air was thick with tension, anticipation, and excitement, reflected in faces longing to achieve fame and recognition in the coming battle.
Atop the high platform, the waiting Grandmasters leisurely sipped their tea and chatted, basking in a comfortable ambiance.
The Penglai Wu Chao sat high above, seemingly asleep, their aura as deep as an abyss.
Bathed in rosy light and mist, on this island secluded from the world—a place akin to a fairyland—the grandest event of the Ancient Martial Arts World, a tradition spanning centuries, was about to commence.
Everything appeared solemn, harmonious, and orderly.
But then suddenly.
BOOM!
A loud blast abruptly sounded from the edge of the island.
RUSTLE—
A large flock of seabirds was startled from the grove near the beach, and the quietly flowing clouds in the sky began to surge rapidly.
