Nourished by abundant earth qi, the purple cypresses on Mount Zibai grew swiftly. Those that had sprouted after the catastrophe were already as thick as a person's waist. Some ancient cypresses that had survived the catastrophe had already reached the point where their growth stopped, yet over these past few years, they had regained their vitality. Like the young saplings, they put out branches and burst into bud, growing taller by the day with gratifying vigor.
The living-wood horn altar hidden in the woods, built from cypress stumps and branches, had changed especially dramatically. The fine, dense cypress leaves that had sprouted from the cut stumps and branches now lay over its surface like an enormous purple velvet carpet, perfectly even and impenetrably thick, hiding everything within. The whole seemed carved from a single piece of purple jade, imparting a sense of grace and grandeur while releasing boundless vitality.
As the saplings grew into shade trees and their tender buds turned purple, time sped past amid the flourishing branches and leaves. The altar had entered its fifth year since completion, and more than three years had passed since the great wind that had chilled the demon fiends to their guts.
Over those three years, the Daoist had scarcely left the altar. Apart from occasional trips to the Xiling Sword Sect to discuss the way of Earthly Immortals with Blissful Youth, and visits to several subordinate branch sects to expound on Daoist scriptures and teachings, he spent almost all his time seated upon the altar, contemplating the Great Dao and compiling scriptures.
It was now the nineteenth day of the ninth month in Ming year 499, and autumn winds had risen once again. The cypress leaves did not fall in the cold, merely changing from pale purple to deep purple. Countless