The spatial rift didn’t snap shut. It remained open like a tear in the sky, venting an aroma of ancient pine needles, morning dew, and cold mountain snow.
Stepping out of the void was an old man clad in a robe of plain white hemp. It was tied at the waist with a simple braided cord of wild grass. His hair and beard were long and unkempt, silver as moonlight, cascading down to his knees. He wore no jade crowns, carried no spirit swords, and bore no golden embroideries.
Yet his bare feet touched the black glass floor of the crater. Then, the surrounding gravity in the room steadied with the total, unbending power of an ancient mountain range.
This was Grandmaster Bai.
The 5-Star Chief Elder of the Continental Master Teacher Pavilion, an ancient sage who had pulled back into the spatial void three hundred years ago and whose name was inscribed upon the founding pillars of the continent.
Arbiter Zong, kneeling among the shattered fragments of his execution sword, stared at the old man with wide, tear-filled eyes.
A sudden, desperate surge of vindictive hope flooded Zong’s chest.
“Elder Bai!” Zong howled, throwing himself forward until his forehead slammed against the glass-fused stone. “Old family Elder! You have dropped! Heaven hasn’t abandoned the Conferred Megacity!”
