At last, the old man beside him — Wuji, The Undying Martial Emperor and the representative of the High Elders, spoke in a calm, measured tone that silenced the restless murmurs of the room.
"Then… are we to prepare our disciples for this?"
His expression remained tranquil, but his eyes carried the heavy weariness of countless eras — the kind only those who had lived through ages of glory and decline could possess.
Fang Wu nodded, clasping his hands behind his back, his bearing steady and regal.
"Yes, Senior Wuji. The Ancestor's will has been declared. We will prepare our peak for the upcoming selection. The moment his divine sign manifests… every peak will move."
Wuji's brows twitched slightly, though he said nothing.
He wished to mention the disciples still cultivating in the Upper Realm, but in the end, he swallowed his words. If the Martial Ancestor himself had decreed this, then questioning his will would be foolish.
