Lord Of Martial Arts

The painting was soon brightened by the blood-red light.

As the ambiance gradually changed, Darren and Hobson immediately felt the bleak coldness. Thus, they turned back and looked at the wall.

To their dire amazement, on the wall, the red-haired figure moved. It was so horrible that the character seemed to walk out of the painting.

At the sight of it, both Darren and Hobson were shocked. From their point of view, all the figures painted in the wall were powerful enough to shake the world. More than that, the red-haired creature was actually going to come out of the picture. How could it not scare them?

There were ripples like water waving on the wall. Gradually, a twisted face stood out from it and stared at Darren and Hobson. By the look of it, the figure struggled nonstop, and after a moment, he actually jumped out of the wall.

After the loud thud from his fall, the figure stood up and straightened himself.

"Oh! Shit, it hurts!" he complained while holding on to his behind.

Throughout these episodes of events, both Darren and Hobson were in a daze and had their eyes fixed on the figure from the wall.

Judging from the way he appeared, the figure was an old man wearing a cotton cloth whose face was covered with stubbles. What amazed them the most was, though he appeared to be old, he was only one foot tall.

"Sir? May we know who you are?" Darren asked, lowering his head to have a closer look at the one-foot man.

"Well, good that you know that you should call me sir! It's you who took the two rule formulas of the immortals out, right?" he asked without answering Darren's question. As he accused Darren, the minute elder stroked his beard and curled his lips. Then with lucid and judging eyes, he stared at Darren suspiciously.

Hearing his question, D

it! How many years did he survive?

Even a holy emperor couldn't live as long as he had lived!

"Sir, are you born in the ancient times? Say the Ancient Age? But why do you speak the same language as us?" Darren questioned reverently. What the old man had said triggered his curiosity. Thus he wanted to learn more about the palace and much more about its owner.

"Silly boy, who says the owner of the bronze palace has to be a member of the ancient times? I was born in the last chaotic era of the Last Age. And by that, I meant maybe just several hundred thousand years ago," responded the old man.

"Yes, the Mythological Palace belonged to the ancient times. But it had been through many generations. I'm the twenty-ninth generation head of it," the old man continued as he saw the eagerness to know more in Darren's eyes.

As he counted the years on his head, Darren thought that if the short old man was the head of the twenty-ninth generation, it meant that the palace had existed a terrifyingly long time.

"But why do you come out now, sir? Just because I have obtained two rule formulas?" Darren asked even more. It seemed that he had never run out of questions for the old man.