The night wind atop Shaoshi Mountain, carrying the sounds of the ancient temple's bells and chimes from millennia past, swept across Xu Qing's gray Daoist robe.
He stood with his hands behind his back on the flying eaves of the Scripture Pavilion, the moonlight outlining his lean silhouette, merging with the vastness of the heavens and earth.
The tremors of enlightenment continued to resonate within his heart.
At the same time, the primordial spirit in Xu Qing's sea of consciousness emanated a green glow, reflecting scenes of the vast desert: Wuhua kneeled on a sand dune, behind him a gigantic statue formed by Buddha light devoured the stars and moon, creating an eerie and terrifying sight.
"So that's how it is." Xu Qing murmured softly, his voice carrying a hint of sudden realization mingled with solemnity.
