Among a range of mountains in Great Hua, insects and birds fell silent.
The sky was frighteningly gloomy. Dark clouds pressed down so heavily that the mountains could barely breathe, as though a torrential downpour might fall at any moment.
Within a grand Sect nestled in these mountains, several people were discussing something in a great hall, their expressions grave.
In a secluded courtyard of the Demon Sect, Cheng An’an lay dressed in purple on the Rocking Chair, swaying gently, worry gathered on her delicate little face.
Across from Cheng An’an, there was actually another Cheng An’an sitting on a stone table in a daze. Beside the table, Dao Hua sat quietly, his expression sorrowful.
The Cheng An’an on the stone table glanced at Dao Hua, then turned toward the Cheng An’an on the Rocking Chair. She rose, walked over to the chair, and said slowly, "Get up and let me sit in the Rocking Chair for a while."
The Cheng An’an on the Rocking Chair glanced at her and pursed her lips. "What does an 'incarnation' need a Rocking Chair for? Let me sit a little longer."
Unexpectedly, the standing "Cheng An’an" protested, "What's wrong with being an incarnation? Am I not still you? You get tired, but I don't? I'm the one doing all the dangerous things, while you... hide away in the Sect all day, clinging to safety."
Cheng An’an rocked the chair and gave an awkward laugh. "You're me, and I'm you. Besides, you can't die. Our memories and divine souls are interconnected."
"Cheng An’an" pursed her lips and said, "I don't care! Anyway, I don't want to sit on a stone chair anymore. It's too hard, and my butt hurts. Either take me back or let me sit in the Rocking Chair..."
"All right, all