Xuanqing Mountain, a mountain range crisscrossed with thousands of rocks and ravines, containing peril within its depths, and marvels within its seclusion.
An Jing stood on the head of the Thousand-year-old Black Python, while Lou Xiangzhen stood at its tail.
Gazing at the towering mountain before him, An Jing couldn't help but say, "The Mystical Sect's Ancestor Court indeed possesses an extraordinary aura."
Although he had seen Nanhua Mountain, the tallest mountain under heaven, he always felt that it lacked a certain artistic conception and flavor compared to Xuanqing Mountain.
Lou Xiangzhen stepped down beside An Jing and looked forward, saying, "Do you want to go up the mountain to take a look? You are considered a disciple of the Mystical Sect after all. Although there are no longer any Mystical Sect disciples on Xuanqing Mountain, there are still traces and remnants of Mystical Sect experts, including some left by Great Grandmasters."
"That would be good."