The people from Tangshan Institute joining Nine Peaks Mountain was like a small stone thrown into a lake—initial ripples, but tranquility soon returned.
On this day, at the peak of Weizhi Mountain.
Tang Zhimu arrived at a dense forest and immediately noticed a tall, imposing figure clad in crimson armor.
The figure's head was covered by a hood, face smooth like an egg, with only a crimson vortex swirling in the center, resembling a single eye, staring intently at him.
With just one glance, he felt as if his spirit was being drawn away.
"What kind of bizarre creature is this?"
Tang Zhimu's heart tightened, and he lowered his head, not daring to look further.
"Esteemed one, do you know if the head of the institute has emerged from seclusion?" he asked respectfully, cupping his hands.
But after waiting a long while, there was no response from the figure, and Tang Zhimu couldn't help but sigh.
