"A Heavenly Thunder Hall martial practitioner…" Within the thatched hut, thinking of the breathing techniques of that enemy who had been spying from the side, Yan Zhaoge looked like he was smiling whilst also not, "An old acquaintance?"
Shaking his head slightly, he retracted his thoughts, refocusing his mind on refining the Immortal Crane Wings.
Each and every feather on the Immortal Crane Wings seemed to be shaking slightly at this moment, as though all of them had a life of their own.
Accompanied by Yan Zhaoge's refinement, the clear cries of cranes emanated from every single feather, getting louder and more sonorous.
Finally, the cries of cranes died down, Yan Zhaoge's gaze flickering as the Immortal Crane Wings became completely silent, transforming into a cloak of crane feathers draped over Yan Zhaoge.