Song Changsheng and the others' expressions changed slightly. They immediately stood up, drew their Magical Artifacts, and warily watched the direction the voice had come from.
Not far from them, standing beside a boulder of Cyan Gang Rock, was a tall, elderly man dressed in a worn, gray, fish-patterned robe.
He looked to be past sixty, with a long, graying beard that clearly hadn't been tended to in a long time. His hair was disheveled, his bronze skin was rough and covered in wrinkles, and his large-knuckled hand clutched a bright yellow-orange Wine Gourd.
There wasn't the slightest fluctuation of Spiritual Qi from his body. His aura was faint and unsteady, making him look just like a slovenly old drunk.
But Song Changsheng and the others didn't dare to let their guard down for a moment.
Although they had been resting, their Divine Sense was constantly extended. No disturbance within a radius of several hundred yards could have escaped their notice.
