Three feet of white blanketed the ground, and snow weighed down the branches.
The young man stood at the bow, his robes snapping in the wind, his expression serene. Clad in a crane-feather cloak, his cap and shoes immaculate, he had a halo suspended behind his head that lent him the air of an immortal deity, his bearing transcendent.
After days of swift travel, the north wind grew ever colder, the snow and wind pricking their cheeks like white bristles. Yet the colder the weather became, the closer they were to the Northern Frontier.
He looked up toward the horizon, where interwoven radiance shimmered indistinctly above the clouds.
Suddenly, he raised a hand to halt the procession, then stepped forward and vanished.
When he reappeared, he was already above the Sea of Clouds. Everyone turned toward him the moment he arrived.
"So our fellow Daoist from Rain Xiang Mountain has arrived."
One of them, a middle-aged man in sumptuous brocade robes, stepped forward first and said with a broad smile:
"I have long heard of your splendid bearing, True Person. Seeing you today, you truly are extraordinary."
Xuan Yi approached. Though warmth did not come naturally to him, he understood the courtesies of social dealings. He stepped forward and cupped his hands.
"You flatter me. Xuan Yi pays his respects to Prince Jing."
This middle-aged man in magnificent ceremonial robes was Lu Xinghuai, a Purple Mansion cultivator of the Zheng Kingdom, titled Prince Jing. This campaign against the Northern Di was of great importance, and he had been placed in charge of coordinating it. His standing, coupled with his middle-stage Purple Mansion cultivation, was more than respectable, making him a fitting choice.
Lu Xinghuai cheerfully drew Xuan Yi over and introduced him to the others:
"Brother Dongmen, fellow Daoist Buji,