Ning Zhuo, clad in white, clean and refreshing, stepped into the cave mansion.
Before meeting Qingwu Langjun, he had already received treatment and was arranged to bathe.
The interior of the cave mansion was quite simple, almost empty, with only a bronze armor enshrined upon the mystic altar.
The armor's plates were quite heavy, verdant like moss, and were marked with some cuts and axe chisel marks.
Its style was clearly not in vogue, exuding a dignified aura as solid as a mountain and ancient as a river.
Upon seeing Ning Zhuo, the bronze armor emitted a faint white glow. In the white light, a figure emerged from within the armor.
His form was that of a middle-aged cultivator, a mighty eight-foot figure with muscular knots and swelling. His face appeared chiseled by elements, and a short beard on his chin resembled a bronze short spear.
His eyes emitted a bright blue light as they fell upon Ning Zhuo.
Ning Zhuo instantly felt an icy sharpness akin to a blade from that gaze.
