Cold Descends on the River

By the Willow River, mountains and water reflected one another, the scenery picturesque as a painting.

Now and then, a ringing mountain song echoed among the peaks, impossible to tell whether it came from the mountains or from the river.

The Taoist priest sat cross-legged beneath a tree by the river. A small stove was set up before him, and he was lighting it, while the little girl bent over by the riverbank, washing rice.

"When your injuries have healed, will Three Flower Lady still have White Crane take you to Tripod Mountain?"

"There's no such hurry. It won't be long before my injuries are fully healed." The Taoist priest added dry firewood to the little stove. Three Flower Lady had already snapped the wood into short pieces, each just about the length of the little stone stove, so he only had to pick them up and toss them in. It was very convenient. "We can walk there slowly, and return slowly too."

"No hurry, meow?"

"That's right..."

Song You continued tossing firewood into the little stove.

By his reckoning, of all that remained from these twenty years, from the mortal world below the mountain, only one matter was left: asking the Heavenly Emperor to step down.

Yet the current Heavenly Emperor no longer had any power at his disposal in Heaven, and the power of the god without virtue had also been exhausted. This had already become no difficult task.

As for what came afterward, it either did not belong to these twenty years or did not belong to the mortal world below the mountain—whether it was watching over the gods' interference in the development of the human world, or observing mankind and guiding the course of history at the proper time, Song You could accomplish it after returning