Chapter 905: Forging a Saint
Alone, she climbed the western tower.
The moon hung like a hook.
It was just dusk, when sun and moon shone together.
The bleak evening wind stirred her wine-red hair, the strands swaying lightly as they outlined a face that seemed to leap from a painting.
Brows, eyes, and nose bridge—each stroke was centered and forceful, like Wang Xizhi's calligraphy.
Her features were clearly not soft and yielding, carrying instead a few sharp angles, yet her bearing and spirit outshone flowers blooming beneath the daylit sky, like a celestial maiden descended to earth.
She wore a black-and-red Dharma robe, its golden-white threads embroidering mountains and rivers. A sun-and-moon crown sat atop her head, binding her wine-red hair into a Daoist bun, with only a few strands hanging loose.
Step by step, each step firm and unwavering, she showed not the slightest sway or coquettishness. Instead, she carried an inexplicable solemnity and gravity, like a true cultivator of the Dao treading through the void in search of the path, yet walking unshakably along the road she believed most righteous.
She was as tranquil as the sunset clouds at dusk.
Her fingers, white as scallion shoots and mutton-fat jade, were tucked into her sleeves. Only as she walked did fleeting traces of their color show.
As she neared the mountain gate, she finally raised her swan-like neck.
As she inclined her head, a glint flashed beneath her lowered lashes.
Beneath that gleam lay a pair of deep-purple double pupils.
When those profound violet double pupils cast a glance over, they made her seem all the more sacred.
Venerable Ziyang, who had long been waiting before the mountain gate, hurried forward and cupped his hands. "Teacher is recuperating in the blessed land..."
"Venerable, you are far too courteous."