The moment he saw this person, it was as if a heavy hammer had struck Yang An's mind, leaving it buzzing.
He was a man in his prime, dressed in a gray robe. His features were cold and stern, as harsh as winter frost. He was looking at Yang An quietly, a faint smile playing on his lips, yet it held no warmth. Instead, it was filled with a murderous aura.
Upon seeing the man's face, Yang An felt a sense of familiarity. The man's features bore a strong resemblance to that unforgettable old man from his memories.
Yang An had also encountered the man's aura and temperament before, but it had been in the Deep World of the Xian Origin Land. At that time, the man had been wearing a mask.
