Inside the cave, a white-haired old man sat cross-legged, his snow-white hair falling to his waist and his snowy beard reaching his chest. Deep wrinkles covered his face, rough as old tree bark, yet they could not conceal the majesty and depth in his brow. His aura was unfathomable, far beyond that of any expert Lin Feng had ever encountered; he had at least reached Peak True God. His eyes were closed, his breathing even, and his chest rose and fell faintly. He seemed to be sleeping, yet also seemed immersed in cultivation. His tattered Daoist robe was covered in patches. Clearly, he had sat here for an exceedingly long time.
Lin Feng stood quietly at the entrance without rashly entering. Unable to tell whether the old man was friend or foe, he dared not disturb him and could only remain where he was, secretly on guard. After hesitating repeatedly, he decided to turn and leave rather than invite unnecessary trouble. Just then, the old man's voice suddenly rang out, low and distant, as though it had traveled through countless ages. It carried a trace of weariness, yet also an unquestionable authority. "Since you are here, come in and sit awhile."
Lin Feng's heart jolted, and his steps halted. He drew a deep breath, suppressed his wariness, and slowly entered the cave. It was small, only a few dozen feet across, and empty except for a bed carved from an enormous slab of Bluestone. Its surface was smooth as a mirror and spotless. The old man still sat cross-legged on the bed, but his eyes were now open. His irises were a pale gold, his gaze deep as an ancient well, as though he could see through human hearts and all things in the world. Some of his earlier majesty