"The winds at Golden Dragon Pass seem even more ferocious than they were in previous years. I've heard that even a martial artist in the generating gods Realm would struggle to withstand it once they reach an altitude of three thousand zhang."
A hundred li away from Golden Dragon Pass, standing on a small mountain that looked as if it were cast from iron, were three men. The one speaking was a man in his thirties with a cultivation level that had reached the seventh level of the Ascension Realm.
This man was dressed in a blue robe, and the crazy, howling winds that wrapped around him couldn't move even a bit of his clothing.
Standing beside him was a man in his twenties who, with a scholar's refined appearance, gently smiled and said, "Indeed, twenty years ago, Iron Mountain was three hundred zhang high, and now there's less than two hundred zhang left."
