Let's talk about the first one first. Comrade Xiao Qian pointed at the old Taoist and the old demon standing out of thin air in the picture. Do you, Husband, know these two people? It seems Sister Huang Lan has seen both of them, and they even said they attended our wedding in the divine capital's palace.
I've seen them. An Yang said.
Daoist Changchen wore a simple moon-white Taoist robe, embroidered on the front with decorative Yin Yang fish patterns, while the back was completely blank. The fabric of the robe was also very ordinary, and had even been washed somewhat whitish by him, giving a strong sense of those older-generation scientists from the country's most difficult times in the last century. Yet paired with his grey hair, long beard, and still smooth skin, it added an extra sense of ethereal, immortal grace.
The most traditional immortal was probably just like him.
Bai Laoyao was a white dove turned spirit. Although the years he had experienced from gaining the Dao and taking human form until now were slightly longer than Daoist Changchen's age, he still had the appearance of a middle-aged man, and completely lacked any fierce hostility, instead making people feel cordial at a single glance.
Matched with the two pairs of snow-white wings spread behind him, being mistaken for an angel was not a loss at all.
Because his image truly was the image of an angel in Western mythology: cordial and gentle, wise and handsome, his eyes still revealing traces of maturity and the benevolence that only old people possessed, belonging to the kind of person who would never make you feel guarded no matter what.
Both of them fought on the front lines of the empire's Daoist magic research, contributing their strength to the empire's