At the break of dawn, Yulong Lake was still engulfed in a veil of mist.
The water surface was expansive and silent, like a massive bronze mirror covered with the dust of time.
Wisps of vapor rose up, swirling around, obscuring the distant mountain outlines like a mirage.
Dewdrops formed on the branches of the weeping willows by the shore, slowly sliding down their slender leaves.
With a soft "plop," they fell into the muddy puddle at the edge of the water, splattering a few droplets of sludge.
Close to the lakeside was a stretch of undulating forested mountains.
Chirp, chirp, chirp.
The forest echoed with the clear cries of birds.
A few early-rising sparrows were hopping on the branches, shaking off the remaining dew on their wings.
The next second, these sparrows suddenly flapped their wings, anxiously soaring into the sky.
Following this, a rustling sound like wind passing through came from the mountains.
