A gentle breeze blew pleasantly, bowing the yarrow low.
Zhouhui Valley lay south of Rain Xiang Mountain, far from the main spirit vein, so spirit vigor was scarce, and people were few and far between.
The valley curved like a covered walkway, with Cold Creek winding around its outer edge. Its ground had once been level, but a clash between Chu Qingjian and Jiang Yang had blasted an enormous crater into it.
Time passed and circumstances changed. The creek rose and spread, filling the hollow into a pond. Flowers and grasses grew wild, fish and birds made their homes there, and life flourished everywhere.
The place had grown considerably livelier lately. On receiving a True Person's written order, Craft Peak had dispatched two artisans and several Fireworker Disciples to renovate Jiang Yang's cultivation grounds.
Felling timber, raising beams, leveling the ground, tending the plants, and tamping the foundations—with the help of spell arts, the work progressed swiftly.
Beside the clear pond, Jiang Yang stood in white robes with his hands behind his back, watching the busy figures in the distance.
Cong Huaijin flew over unsteadily, alighted from her magic wind, and hopped in front of Jiang Yang. Her curious gaze lingered on his white hair, but she refrained from asking and instead bent into a bow, greeting him brightly:
"Huai Jin pays her respects to Martial Uncle!"
Jiang Yang turned to see a young maiden standing before him. Her pale green blouse was tied with an apricot-yellow sash, making her look like a tender willow in early spring, fresh and brimming with life.
It had been a long time since they last met, and Cong Huaijin had grown out of her childish looks. She had an oval face, fine, fair skin, and large, round eyes, clear and bright.
Seeing her,