Sure enough.
The instant the mask touched his skin, the invisible barrier receded like the tide.
When he stepped into the garden now, nothing blocked his way, and his right foot easily crossed the threshold.
Immediately afterward, the paint on the mask seemed to come alive, turning into colorful streams that flowed down Lei Xiaosan's cheeks and chin.
Within a few breaths, the paint had spread over his entire body, covering his black martial outfit. When it dispersed, his clothing had completely changed: he wore a moon-white robe with a green jade pendant hanging at his waist, and still held his sword. By any measure, he looked like a dashing young man of the jianghu.
Only the comical clown mask on his face clashed with his refined attire, looking especially out of place.
Surely a wandering martial hero should at least have the imposing appearance of a martial male lead. What was the point of making him a clown?
Lei Xiaosan stepped through the doorway but did not immediately go farther inside.
He turned and said something, but his voice could not pass through the doorway, as though he were performing a mime. His movements made it clear, however, that he was waiting for Cui Jiuyang.
There was no other way to go anyway.
Cui Jiuyang took out his old male role mask and fitted it over his face.
A cold sensation immediately spread over his skin, and he too stepped across the threshold.
It was exactly the same as with Lei Xiaosan.
The paint on his face quickly melted as well.
It became interwoven streams of dark red and inky black that dripped down his neck and over his body.
His blue-green Daoist robe retained its color, but its sleeves became broad and flowing, while an air of weathered