Xu Dingchun stood proudly atop the endless yellow sands.
Like an iron tower, no sandstorm, no matter how great, could move him in the slightest.
If not for Xu Dingchun, the Zhenxi Army would have been defeated long ago, and Xuan Yang would have been trampled to ruin under the iron hooves of the Ximo tribes.
He was the Guardian God of the Xuan Yang Western Realm.
"My good grand-disciple."
Xu Dingchun looked at Bai Yuan and laughed heartily. The more he looked at this grand-disciple of his, the more he liked what he saw.
There's a special affection that skips a generation—it's only natural.
Bai Yuan strode forward and knelt on one knee. "Master, your grand-disciple greets you."
Although he had rarely met Xu Dingchun, their bond was deep.
