"""
Next, a Daoist figure with white hair and a jade hairpin, meticulous and refined, stepped out slowly.
He was dressed in a plain moon-white Daoist robe.
Between his brows rested a frost-like indifference as he slightly raised his head to glance at the elder standing amidst the Blood River in the high sky.
At the sight of this moon-white silhouette, an illusion filled Wang Ba's mind. Despite the entirely different appearance, he seemed to catch a glimpse of another Xun FuJun.
The same aloof detachment, the same unapproachable air.
However, the difference lay in how this moon-white figure's sudden emergence was akin to a cold winter sun—chilling, yet radiating a commanding intensity, fierce and overbearing, overshadowing all the brilliance emanating from Han Yanzi.
Drawing everyone's astonished gazes.
Ji Ying, currently the sect's most senior member, was visibly shocked upon witnessing this moon-white silhouette:
"Martial Uncle Hui?!"
"He… is still alive?!"
