The winter snows depart from the plum blossoms; the spring breeze returns to the willows.
Before they knew it, winter had passed and spring had arrived.
The frozen mountain stream began to murmur and flow once more. Along its banks, red flowers bloomed in abundance.
At this moment, Fang Yang and Sen Hui were walking side-by-side, strolling along the edge of the stream.
"Ah Yang, the Refining Dao Convention is about to begin."
Sen Hui's bright eyes fluttered, her breath sweet and fragrant. "Do you have any plans?"
A gentle breeze stirred, lifting a strand of black hair from beside her ear.
Fang Yang leaned over, took the stray strand, and gently tucked it behind her ear.
The Refining Dao Convention was a grand stage for cultivators who practiced the Hundred Arts to showcase their skills.
After all, the Saint Institute was home to countless students, and it was impossible for everyone to make it onto the Heaven, Earth, and Human Rankings.
