As the lingering energy from his breakthrough settled into his meridians, Meng Hao suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps—soft at first, but gradually growing louder, accompanied by the faint whooshing of robes brushing against wind and branches rustling overhead.
He turned his gaze behind him, calm and composed, and saw a group of figures rapidly approaching. Seven cultivators leaped gracefully through the canopy, bounding from one tree branch to the next with the ease of seasoned martial artists. Among them, two glided effortlessly through the air, standing atop flying swords, their long robes billowing like banners in the wind.
All of them were women.
Meng Hao narrowed his eyes slightly, observing them with caution. Their robes, movements, and formation indicated that this was no mere scouting party—these cultivators had come with a purpose, and that purpose seemed to be him.
But he quickly reined in his thoughts, his inner world returning to calm.
