The Legend of Cheng Feng

“Cultivators, halt! This place is forbidden to you!”

An old but commanding voice rang out, like thunder rolling across the sky.

Everyone turned toward the sound. On the mountain path ahead stood a ragged old man. His face was gaunt, his beard hung down like a tangle of weeds, and an air of stillness surrounded him. Yet when his gaze swept over the group, it was sharp as a blade, making everyone hold their breath without meaning to.

“I advise you all to turn back. This is the warriors’ domain. Cultivators are not allowed to set foot here!” The old man leaned on a broken wooden staff. His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.

The cultivators exchanged glances, their eyes filled with disdain. A middle-aged man in fine clothes stepped forward, a sneer on his lips. “A mere mortal dares to block the way of us cultivators? How laughable!”