North of the Luo River.
The cold wind howled, and heavy snow drifted down like goose feathers.
By a lakeshore blanketed in endless snow, two figures had appeared.
One of them had an aged face, with visible wrinkles already lining it and hair turned gray-white.
He wore a yellow-brown Daoist robe, embroidered on the back with a diagram of the Eight Trigrams of Heaven and Earth.
The cold wind whipped up his yellow-brown Daoist robe, sending it flapping behind him with a fierce rustle.
Anyone of broad knowledge present would have recognized this elder, who looked to be over fifty, as the man known as the second greatest in the world today.
The leader of the Yellow Heaven Cult, the sect with the most followers in the world.
Beside him stood another young man whose face still retained a trace of youthful innocence. A sword was strapped to his back, its hilt likewise bearing a diagram of the Eight Trigrams of Heaven and Earth.
"Master, why have you brought me here?" the young man asked in confusion.
The elder slowly said, "Disciple, what do you think of Great Xia as it stands today?"
Upon hearing this, the young man first pondered for a while before slowly speaking. "The poor have no place even to plant an awl, while the rich own fields stretching from path to path. Wine and meat rot behind vermilion gates, while frozen corpses lie by the roadside!"
"The rigid class hierarchy is exceptionally severe. Among commoners, not even one in ten thousand miles can break through it!"
The elder said, "Disciple, then tell me—if the dynasty were changed and heaven and earth remade, could this situation be resolved?"
"Master, you intend to—?!" At the elder's words, the young man's eyes immediately widened.
"Go on," the elder