Primordial magnetism poured down upon the earth, and thunder boomed.
Two True Persons stood amid the vast billowing clouds.
One was a young Daoist with a face like the full moon. His gray robe was old but neat, and a smile touched his face before he spoke. His eyes narrowed to fine slits, a fly whisk resting loosely in the crook of his elbow, its tassels swaying in the breeze.
The other looked like a boy, yet his bearing resembled an ancient sword drawn from its sheath. Thunder patterns were subtly embroidered on his black-and-gold Daoist robe. His face still held the contours of youth, but with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze carried the stern chill of one who had weathered the ages.
"I heard... that one has appeared in the world."
The boyish True Person spoke softly, yet his voice was deep and resonant as great bronze bells.
The young man behind him stepped forward and bowed, nodding as he answered respectfully:
"Reporting to Martial Uncle, that one came to the plains just after attaining divine powers. After staying with the Shang for a while, that one has now departed."
"Oh?"
His black-and-gold robe gleamed coldly as the boy relaxed his brow.
"Did our lineage send a congratulatory gift?"
"Well... no, we did not."
The young man secretly lowered his head at the question and said hesitantly:
"The instruction from above was not to initiate contact for the time being."
"Hmph!"
The True Person snorted, his voice rumbling like muffled thunder in the young man's ears.
"For something so momentous, they would not even show their faces. Their eyes truly sit above their heads—they have no sense of propriety!"
This was clearly not something the young True Person could comment on. He merely bowed slightly and