920 A Thousand Years

The imperial palace of the Brightshore Kingdom.

The almighty Hegemon stared at the sixty-seven images hovering in the air next to the thirteen thrones. He said softly, "A thousand years has concluded."

The twelve golden-armored powers who had been chatting idly, meditating with eyes closed, or silently drinking wine all came alert.

"Hegemon, how shall you choose the most powerful ones?" The twelve golden-armored powers all looked at the almighty Hegemon.

These World-level cultivators who had been acknowledged by the ancient pagodas were all incredible figures who possessed varied skills. What was the fairest way to choose the 'best' four?

The almighty Hegemon gently stroked his snow-white beard, then smiled. "Let them challenge the Daolord Cloudworld. They will have three days! The four who make it the farthest in the Daolord Cloudworld shall gain this opportunity."

"Challenge the Daolord Cloudworld?" The twelve instantly understood.

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