Victory With The Staff Technique

After half a year...

In the yellow region of Qinglan, on the westernmost side of a barren hill, a burly young man dressed in a green robe stood with his eyes closed.

His face was straight and sharp, like a javelin pointing toward the sky. Meanwhile, his eyebrows were sloppy. It was none other than Shi Mu.

On his side, there was also a ruthless black iron stick equal to his height and as thick as an arm.

As sound began to buzz around him, Shi Mu's eyes suddenly opened and a faint hint of golden awns emerged. A faint yet fleeting whirlpool of airflow slowly formed around him.

Shi Mu stretched out with one arm and grabbed the staff. His toe was gently kicked at the bottom of the long staff. The end of the staff suddenly jumped up and the other arm lifted and raised the staff in his hand.

He had both hands on the staff. With a twist of his arm, a circle was drawn in the air. A white cyclone, visible to the naked eye, sprayed out of the circle.