Below the Martial Arts Arena, Zhaang Ye was silently recovering his breath. But then, he suddenly noticed Zhaang Tianlong beside him. The Elder's gaze was frozen, fixed on the sky above the arena, his face a mixture of excitement and reverence.
His curiosity piqued, Zhaang Ye followed Zhaang Tianlong's gaze upward and couldn't help but gasp.
There, dozens of yards above the Martial Arts Arena, a Middle-aged Man in Purple Clothes stood suspended in mid-air. His features seemed hazy and ethereal, and his robes fluttered despite the absence of wind. He was silent, yet a faint Suppression radiating from him immediately alerted everyone on and around the arena to his presence.
