"Is this the place?" Zhao Jiyu looked at the impoverished Wuzhuang Temple on the rather laughable Longevity Mountain.
"Yes, Your Highness," Song Changqian said, feeling a bit embarrassed, especially by the couplets on the temple's gate, which were utterly boastful.
"Let's go inside and take a look." Zhao Jiyu's expression was grave, and he didn't feel disdainful or contemptuous just because the place appeared destitute.
In his perception, it was very calm inside, almost to the point of feeling deserted.
"Halt who comes."
They were just one step away from entering when a voice called out.
A Yellow Turban Warrior, expressionless and menacingly fierce, stood blocking them, asking, "Who are you, and what are you here for?"
"I am Zhao Jiyu, a prince of Da Xuan, greeting the elder," Zhao Jiyu's pupils contracted. He recognized this man as a powerful figure at the Heavenly Human Unity Realm who was guarding the entrance here: "I am here to find someone."
