Cheng Xinzhan once again assumed the appearance of a stern swordsman, dressed in a plain indigo Daoist robe with a longsword in hand, and left the Heavenly Mountain Sword Sect in the snowy night.
He had only left the sect's sanctuary, however, not the Tianshan Mountain Range. Reaching the Northern Dipper Palace meant traveling east all the way, which happened to follow the mountains' course. So he walked along their summits, sensing the contours of the mountains while bathing in the wind and snow.
Looking at the steep slopes of Mount Tian and the drifting fine snow, he wanted to paint a magnificent scene of a silver dragon amid flying snow to add to the Earth Book, but the feeling within him always fell a little short. He knew that forcing his brush would merely copy its form without capturing its spirit and bring little gain, so he did not "force a tale of sorrow to compose a new lyric." He thought the destined moment must not have arrived yet and could only leave it for another day.
After flying east for a while, he saw the peaks gradually growing lower and smaller, the mountain range gradually sinking into the earth, and the distant plain coming clearly into view. This final, narrowing stretch of ridge resembled a tongue sticking out of the silver dragon's mouth.
As the Daoist traveled east, he descended with the peaks. Meanwhile, he could clearly feel the snowfall growing lighter and lighter, and the mountaintops beneath his feet gradually changing from silver-white to brown-black.
Experiencing these changes along the way, Cheng Xinzhan found them quite interesting.
Where the mountains fully met the plain, there was no snow at all. Looking around, he found the view wonderfully open. With no curtain of snow veiling his eyes and