The moon was dark, the wind fierce; the night chill flowed like water.
Mountain Lord Temple was silent. Many of the cultivators camping in the main hall had already drifted into dreams.
Over the past few days, they had been under immense mental strain.
They had not had a proper rest the entire way here.
Though cultivators could go without sleep or rest for long periods, their Divine Souls still grew weary and needed to relax and recover.
This Mountain Lord Temple gave them a long-lost sense of safety.
As a result, quite a few cultivators slept especially soundly.
"Tan-lang~"
The faint, lingering call jolted Tan Zhiwen awake from his dreams.
He reflexively rolled up into a sitting position, a Talisman clutched in his hand.
"Tan-lang~"
The next moment, Tan Zhiwen heard the same voice again.
This time, he could confirm that he was awake and was not hearing things.
Tan Zhiwen's mind went blank for a moment.
The voice was simply too familiar, effortlessly awakening memories buried deep within his heart.
"Xiao Juan..."
Tan Zhiwen murmured, his gaze turning vacant.
Xiao Juan had been his Childhood Sweetheart and lover. She had died in an accident many years ago.
Throughout all these years, Tan Zhiwen had never forgotten her. He had even turned down several female cultivators who had favored him.
"Where are you?"
"Tan-lang, I'm here."
Xiao Juan's voice was mournful as a sob, drifting through the air and piercing his heart, making Tan Zhiwen unable to restrain the tidal surge of longing within him.
He lifted the tent flap and shot out of the main hall like an arrow loosed from its bow.
He appeared in the courtyard outside.
Moonlight flowed like water over Tan Zhiwen, as though draping him in a veil of silver-white gauze.
The peak