As the sun set sluggardly to nest beneath the mountains, a stark orange light flooded into the solemn Demon Subduing Hall, painting it as though it were drenched in blood.
Yagyu Mimoto was in an extremely good mood as he reached his hands out to grab his prize. He could already see the emergence of over ten Xiantian experts in his Itoh clan, dazzling the entire martial world!
But as he indulged in the moment of pride, a figure suddenly appeared before him, seemingly manifesting in thin air. With just a momentary lapse in concentration, his eyes had completely missed the entrance of this figure!
A hand stretched out, its skin whiter than snow and shimmering with a faint white glow. Long jet-black hair tied up with white silk flowed down the figure's back.
"Why? Are the promises of a righteous Taoist Sect actually so worthless?"