On a pitch-black rainy night, torrential rain battered the mountain forest. The fierce wind carried a howling sound, stirring up a rushing clatter through the woods. Now and then, a clap of thunder exploded in the sky, its rumbling roar echoing endlessly among the mountains.
In the oppressive black sky, silver serpents flickered, sharp cracks ringing out without cease. Blinding silver light would, every so often, illuminate the dark mountain forest as if it were daytime.
Between the steep cliffs, an elderly figure stood with his hands behind his back atop a sharp crag. His aged face was expressionless as he stared at the lightning and thunder in the sky. His body was like an ancient pine, standing firm on the precipice, carrying a calm bearing that seemed to say, let the thunder rage as it would, he would remain unmoved.
Yet if one observed carefully, one would discover that whenever the old man's gaze drifted toward the mountain cave not far away, whose entrance was covered by broken stones, his eagle-claw-like hand would unconsciously clench tight. Only after a moment would it slowly relax again.
The old man stood amid the lightning without saying a single word, simply gazing up at the sky in silence. Occasionally, his eyes swept toward the mountain cave, but they only lingered for an instant before quietly moving away. That cautious manner was as if he feared that one extra glance would disturb the young man's training inside.
The dark night slowly passed amid the mingling of thunder and lightning, and that mountain forest was ravaged without mercy by the storm for an entire night. When the darkness gradually dispersed and a thread of dawn light slowly shot out from the eastern horizon, the entire mountain forest immediately revealed its miserable, battered appearance.
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