The Mist Moon Mountain Range wound and twisted, stretching far into the distance toward the horizon.
Within the immortal palace, song and dance filled the air. Yet the Palace Master, whom everyone regarded as a god, was restless at that moment.
So she came to the Founder's Shrine, intending to pray to the venerable immortals of her sect.
Though it was called a shrine, it was actually an exceedingly spacious hall.
Its furnishings were solemn and dignified.
The offering table was covered with longevity tablets.
Each tablet was carved from divine wood worth a fortune.
The Mist Moon Immortal Palace did not have as long a history as the Feathering Sect, but it was now at the height of its power, its might shaking the lands for a hundred thousand li around. Only then could it afford such extravagance.
But the most eye-catching thing among all the longevity tablets—or, rather, above them—was a statue several feet tall.
The statue was carved from ten-thousand-year-old warm jade, and it looked lifelike.
At first glance, it could have been a True Person.
And the statue's face was none other than White Crane Immortal Lord's.
The Mist Moon Palace Master came before the statue and respectfully offered a stick of incense.
Among the sect's revered ancestors, White Crane Immortal Lord had been the most gifted and had achieved the greatest heights. It could be said that without him, the so-called Mist Moon Immortal Palace would have been nothing but a second-rate little sect.
How could it otherwise have shaken the lands for a hundred thousand li around and enjoyed such boundless glory?
More importantly, Ancestor White Crane had not passed away; he had become an immortal.
He had even once traveled ten thousand li in spirit and possessed this statue, offering guidance to the