Chapter 1730: Chapter 1782: India’s Gan Ma
A man slowly walked to the edge of the field. He was tall and thin, about one ter eighty, and entirely cloaked in a long robe. He ca alone, unlike others who arrived on speedboats, luxury yachts, or even piloted ships to Fog Island. This elderly figure with yellow-black skin stood upon a log, drifting over slowly.
Occasionally, he would sit down, and the log would drift forward by itself, although very slowly, unaffected by the wind.
Fortunately, this place was remote, and no one witnessed this scene, or they would certainly be astonished. This elder hailed from the equally ancient nation—India—a country occupying the world’s second-largest population, with high birth and death rates.
This is a country where miraculous people abound, endearingly referred to by Huaxia People as ’Asan’. Many amusing or bizarre videos of Indians online provoke laughter, but more often induce sympathetic smiles. The elder is from India, from the Ganges, India’s holy river, now also the dirtiest, where countless corpses float, along with natural toilets dotting the banks.
The elder’s skin was initially pale, but over the years, it had beco darkened either from the sun or the waters of the Ganges.
Elsewhere, the elder looked like a dried-up old man. The robe, though not large, still appeared loose. Holding a staff that matched his height, it looked worn, like a piece of rotten wood, but the surface was very smooth, without knowing how many years the elder had gripped it.
The elder’s facial hair wasn’t dense—thin hair exposed parts of the scalp, but the beard was lush, directly covering the mouth, and the eyebrows were long.
A seemingly inconspicuous old man, placed on any street in the world, would resemble a beggar—both in attire and image—a bit like an Eighth Elder of the Beggar Clan. Yet, such a person walked slowly over. People initially standing by the elder stepped back upon seeing him, quickly giving way to a large space.
The elder did not utter a word nor glance at those people.
Mig, diagonally opposite, also noticed the elder. His eyes squinted slightly, not because of sunlight, but overwheld by the elder’s aura.
At his level, encountering ordinary people wouldn’t evoke a sense of danger, but with this elder, he indeed detected an extrely dangerous air. Mig puffed his chest slightly, his muscles squirming, tensing, and then relaxing—the repeated motion dispelling that uneasy feeling—and shielded his underlings from this strange aura.
The elder also saw Mig, rely gave him a faint glance, seemingly indifferent to him.
After standing for a while, the elder grasped his staff without exerting apparent force. His staff, arms, and shoulders remained steady, but his legs gradually crossed, raising him to an airborne cross-legged position, his eyes closed, his body unmoving.
Those watching TV wouldn’t find this scene unfamiliar, as street perforrs can portray it by simply wearing a wide robe over predetermined fras to simulate a hovering act. But... the elder hadn’t prepared in advance; he truly sat in the air, connected only by his arm and staff.
"I think I know who he is!" uttered an elderly man from Oceania dressed in a suit, tie, and hat. Those beside him imdiately turned and whispered, "Do you know who he is?"
"India’s Master Gan Ma, known as the second Gandhi. This person... How has he co here? Has the duel between Golden Eagle and Satan attracted such characters?" The elderly man in the suit, increasingly astonished, exclaid.
The people next to him still didn’t understand and asked, "Gan Ma? I’ve never heard of him. I should know so of the world’s experts, shouldn’t I?"
"You know too little. This Gan Ma... I heard of him from my grandfather. My grandfather didn’t say much, rely told
he is an extrely dangerous figure, advising to stay as far away as possible!" The suit-clad elderly man said with a solemn expression.
"Tut... Your grandfather... His age must be a hundred, if not more. Why isn’t he staying ho, coming here?" the man muttered.
The elderly man in the suit remarked, "This man is too dangerous; I believe today’s events might change!"
"What change can occur, a hundred-year-old elder? Perhaps he’s bored at ho, coming out to see the spectacle."
"Alright, stop discussing. Put away your gaze; don’t scrutinize others casually. It’s disrespectful and invites trouble. The attendees today are all hidden talents. We’re just minor players, so keep a low profile!" The elderly man in the suit advised his peers quietly. Hearing his serious tone, they stopped overacting, each retreating slightly but couldn’t resist curious glances.
Here stands the ultimate showdown between Li Yifei and Satan. To many young people, it’s a place to broaden horizons, witness top experts contest, and see peers and hidden masters, like newly arrived Gan Ma, whose presence lowered conversation volu throughout the venue.
Because more than just the elderly man in the suit recognized him, others did too. Regarding this formidable figure notorious decades ago, they couldn’t help but fear.
Fog Island’s mist wasn’t dense today, but while the island itself was clear, surrounding fog still engulfed view, reducing visibility, leaving newcors blind to inner circumstances. Yet, renowned figures brought powerful aura detectable upon entry, so spectators steered clear.
Following Gan Ma’s arrival, several more landed. Leading was one appearing scarcely teens or twenties, looking rather young yet bald. Following him were several robed in black, faces concealed. Quietly, they strolled, reached the venue fringe, imdiately sparking discussion. Many glanced over, instaneously tingling with fear, for this ensemble of black-robed folks plus the figure in red incited world-wide tremors.
A Red Bishop, upon confirmation, might warrant the addition of ’Grand’. This seeming twenty-year-old youth is indeed the formidable Grand Bishop in Red surging across Europe.
His actual age remains unknown, his strength even more mysterious.
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