Qingyi emerged from the spatial rift in a remote, sunny region of the Celestial Orthodox Martial Alliance.
The Alliance's territory was vast. The central island alone rivaled the size of planet Earth.
Although cultivators inhabited much of this land, countless mortals still lived scattered throughout, especially the families of disciples without origins who had been taken in by the Alliance.
This was precisely one such region, where mortals lived side by side with low-level cultivators.
Looking down at his own unremarkable appearance and the plain clothes he now wore, Qingyi let out a heavy sigh.
It felt strange to no longer feel the soft caress of the silk battle robes Meilin had crafted with such care and skill, only to be wrapped once more in the coarse fabric of ordinary mortals.
Stranger still was seeing himself as a plain man. Not exactly ugly, but far from the kind of face that would catch any woman's eye.
