He wore a cream-colored long robe, exuding an aura of immortal elegance.
Nearby.
Chloe Ling blinked twice and said, “But Elder, you’ve been in seclusion for over thirty years, and you’re still only a second-step titled Martial Lord.”
The elder’s face darkened. “Chloe, your perspective is too narrow—realm isn’t everything.”
“But…” Chloe Ling tilted her head, her delicate features as fine as porcelain, her skin smooth as jade, and her voice habitually soft and playful. “Elder, as far as I remember, you haven’t learned any new Mystic-Communion Arts, right?”
In recent years, titled Martial Lords have rarely appeared in the world; most either remain in seclusion, striving to break through to the Law Realm above, or preside over their sects, indifferent to worldly affairs.
The robed elder could only sigh in resignation.
Actually, he was only venting a little, not truly resistant, so he changed the topic: “Chloe, you’ve grown a bit taller now, and finally have your own group of friends.”
“Three years—I’ve grown three centimeters!” Chloe Ling said proudly.
She happily calculated that, at this rate, she might reach 1.6 meters before she turns thirty—and with high heels, even 1.8 meters wouldn’t be impossible.
“One-sixty! One-sixty!”
Chloe Ling patted her chest and teased, “Elder, do you know what it means to be one-sixty?”
The elder’s face turned dark, suppressing his irritation, and coughed: “Enough. You members of the Dawn War are all extraordinary, but you mustn’t be too willful. Stay in close contact with your companions—these bonds will be invaluable resources for your future.”
As soon as he said this—
Chloe Ling’s face crumpled, and she pretended to cry: “Elder, I don’t want to be sect master.”
“You had the courage to join the Dawn War, but not to become sect master?” the elder said angrily.
“No, no, just no! See you!” Chloe Ling made a funny face and skipped off the waterfall, bouncing away on the breeze.
Fortunately, Andrew Han’s fury and murderous resolve have indirectly propelled reform in the Martial Arts World.
“Hmph.” Quinn Qing, usually cold and stern, actually smiled. “I bet Andrew still doesn’t realize the true significance of the Dawn War.”
On the surface, it was a purge—a sweeping away of darkness across ten thousand miles.
But at a deeper level, it was the young generation’s declaration of emergence. The sunset era of stubborn ideology deserves to collapse and fade away.
“But that’s still not enough.”
“The real challenge is the bloated, overcomplicated elder council!” Quinn Qing licked his lips, a trace of anticipation in his eyes.
It’s close.
Maybe, before the Law Realm returns and Universal Martial Practice is officially rolled out in Sinovera, they’ll manage to overthrow that outdated system.
“We can’t rush things.” Shawn Xiao, the bald powerhouse, squinted and sent a message. “If we alert those old fossils, we could lose everything we’ve worked for.”
Both men are titled third-step Martial Lords.
Their private conversation could only be overheard by a Law Realm being.
“Alerted?”
Quinn Qing shook his head, a trace of mockery on his face.
They preach that the world belongs to the young.
But in reality, those elders are desperate to clamp down on the Martial Arts World’s evolution. The iron rule banning martial displays before ordinary people is the perfect proof—why should martial power be hidden?
Foolish! Stubborn!
Outdated! Decayed!
To be fair, some elders mean well, but good intentions have caused harm—what good is that? They’ve lived too long, seen too much, and turned caution into shackles that stifle progress.
“Enough, enough.”
Shawn Xiao scratched his bald head. “Calm down, don’t get too worked up. Besides, I need to find Peerless Andrew Han and have a talk.”
“About what?” Quinn Qing frowned.
“First, to thank him. Then, to discuss elder council reform.” Shawn Xiao flashed a set of pearly white teeth, which matched his jade-like shiny bald head perfectly.
The Martial Arts World’s upheaval was something Andrew Han was well aware of.
But all that commotion didn’t affect his training—after all, Andrew was a Martial Arts Program student at Southland University!
In short—
Andrew simply continued fulfilling his Southvale Provincial Defense Formation duties.
“Weak.”
“Far too weak.”
His pale-blue windbreaker fluttered as Andrew looked at the Demon ahead—a giant wolf, equal to a mid-tier Martial Lord, rare among White-Blood Wolves, its body stretching nearly twenty meters.
But unfortunately—
It still couldn’t withstand a single slap from him.
“All right.” Andrew glanced at the Martial General unit beside him and smiled. “I’ll leave the rest to you.”
The Martial Generals hurriedly bowed in respect.
“Yes, sir!”
“We respectfully see Paragon Han off.”
Only when Andrew’s figure disappeared did they finally exchange glances of relief and awe. After all, Andrew Han was the initiator of the Dawn War; such a feat had inspired countless young martial artists to respect and admire him.
Greenfield City, Southland University.
The early June sun grew hotter, making the air heavy. On the third floor of Southland University’s library, a young couple sat back-to-back, each reading their own book.
It was Andrew Han and Monica Zhang.
“Mmm.”
“This book… is really good.” Andrew spent just three minutes finishing a five-hundred-page philosophy tome, gaining a clearer understanding of his own Inspiration.
The basic Berserker State has clear traces of Graywhite Aura’s influence.
But the Inspiration Berserker State is a much more subtle fusion of Inspiration and berserk emotion—complex and elusive, requiring careful study and reflection.
“Time for another book.”
“Yeah, let’s keep reading. Study hard and improve every day!”
In this moment, the ideal of diligent study seemed to shine like a beam of light, illuminating Andrew Han’s path.