On the National Path, the wind had grown a little stronger, kicking up sand and dust, but it also blew away some of the smoke ahead.
After Jian Chengsheng got out of the vehicle, he placed a hand on the Long Blade at his waist and stared ahead with a solemn expression. A moment later, under the gazes of the personnel on his side, he began walking forward step by step.
His hair was tied in a topknot, and he wore the white training uniform of Langtao Hall. The clothes followed the style of a bygone era, their wide sleeves billowing in the wind.
Although drinking White Infant Wine had made him look two or three years younger, as if he were only sixteen or seventeen, his persistent gaze and the resolute aura emanating from him involuntarily made all who saw him turn grave and serious.
The Third Limit Fighter stationed there saw Jian Chengsheng approach and immediately bowed before stepping aside.
