Drifting clouds lingered far beyond the horizon, not daring to disturb one another.
The mountain path was sternly ordered, governed by its own rules.
Beneath impartial sunlight, an upright figure in a purple marquis's robe climbed the steps, back straight, one hand resting on his sword.
Between heaven and earth, he alone possessed such bearing.
The mountain wind swept past the hem of his robe, meekly settling against it like a wisp amid the clouds and mist. Then it darted away, striking the Ritual Stones standing like sentries beside the path, producing a neat, solemn reverberation—
"Might!"
"Might!"
"Might!"
The Prestige Stones that intimidated lawbreakers and upheld the majesty of Heavenly Punishment Cliff did not diminish this man in the slightest. Instead, their echoes rang between heaven and earth, keeping pace with his footsteps as though strengthening his journey.
Forward he went, higher he climbed.
With ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers before him, where could he not tread?
Beneath a Dharma Stele that seemed to hold up the sky stood an extraordinary woman.
Judging by her features alone, her appearance was not particularly outstanding.
Yet she possessed a temperament unlike any other.
The Dharma crown upon her head could not be more solemn than her gaze.
Nor could the ceremonial robes draped about her be more imposing than she herself was.
She was grave, detached from dazzling blooms of every hue, offering no allure to the countless beings of the world.
She was singular, scrutinizing the mortal realm she beheld and abiding by the principles she perceived—like the Ritual Stones, like the mountain wind.
To describe her by worldly standards of beauty would be far too vulgar.
Her beauty lay beyond common notions.
At this moment, she greeted the honored guest who had come from afar with a