Qingyun Mountain's back hill.
Ancestral Hall.
Ancient trees towered into the sky, their dense shade blocking out the sun.
Although it was clearly midday, there was hardly any heat. Instead, an eerie chill seemed to seep into the bones.
A layer of withered yellow leaves had gathered on the thick bluestone slabs.
"Swish—swish—"
The dry, monotonous sound of sweeping slowly echoed before the empty ancestral hall.
An old man dressed in coarse hemp robes held a broom made of bundled dead branches, slowly sweeping the fallen leaves from the ground.
His movements were sluggish, as though the slightest breeze might blow him over.
Under a pine tree not far from the old man, a youth sat cross-legged.
The youth appeared to be around fourteen or fifteen years old.
He wore the Daoist robes of a Qingyun Sect disciple.
Although his face was still somewhat youthful, it already possessed the handsome, extraordinary contours of a striking appearance.
At that moment.
The youth's eyes were slightly closed.
There was no fluctuation of spiritual energy around him, making him look like an ordinary mortal who had never cultivated before.
Yet the dead grass beneath him was undergoing a strange cycle at a speed visible to the naked eye, changing from lush green to withered yellow, then from withered yellow back to green.
Withering and flourishing flowed in turn.
Life continued without end.
After a long while.
Ye Xuan's eyelids trembled slightly, and he slowly opened his eyes.
In that instant.
Two wisps of azure energy seemed to flash through the depths of his pupils.
Yet they quickly vanished without a trace, returning to their former clear, black-and-white appearance.
"Phew..."
He exhaled a breath of stale air.
Ye Xuan's thoughts stirred.
A pale-blue light screen visible only to him slowly unfolded across his retina.