The view before Xu Yunfan's eyes suddenly opened up.
Before him hung a towering, bluish-black mountain, suspended inverted above a sea of clouds. Its surface was covered in naturally formed silver patterns, like Talismans carved by some work of Celestial Craftsmanship.
Seven waterfalls of ice cascaded from the summit, only to be torn apart mid-fall by the Gang Wind, transforming into a dense mist of Spiritual Qi that shrouded the entire mountain in an iridescent glow.
The remnants of Han White Jade Steps snaked up the mountainside, leading toward a cluster of long-collapsed palace halls.
Gilded, coiling dragon patterns were still visible on the broken beams and pillars. A fractured stele jutted from the scorched earth, on which one could faintly discern the word "Taixu."
What shook Xu Yunfan to his core were three vast, boundless auras at the mountain's foot. They descended like celestial chasms, blanketing the entire Xuankong Mountain in an invisible, oppressive might.
