As dawn was about to break in the east, Zhao Min rose to her full height. She still said nothing. After giving Li Yan a slight nod, she faced the first glimmer of sunrise, stepped over the grass-leaf dew along the platform's edge—dew like the tears of one parted from a loved one—and flew away. Her white robes outshone snow, her sleeves riding the wind...
Li Yan sat upon the platform for a long, long time. Only when daylight had fully brightened did he rise and walk back toward the bamboo-grove path from which he had come. The early morning sun cast his silhouette at a slant across the path, long, long, making the path seem narrow, narrow—so narrow it could hold only a single figure...
Time was like sunlight filtering through bamboo leaves: visible, yet untouchable. Every day, it scattered in mottled patches from the thick bamboo canopy, making time verdant and the years seem unchanged. It was as though the only thing that had altered was the shifting light and shadow of Small Bamboo Peak.
In the blink of an eye, another month passed. This day, Li Yan had just returned by teleportation from the secret chamber within the mystic realm when the sect token at his waist began flashing red without stop. Once inside the mystic realm, the sect token could no longer transmit messages. The mystic realm was a small world of its own; apart from those two passages, perhaps only the round diamond crystal on Li Yan's person could convey things back and forth.
Seeing this, Li Yan immediately released a strand of Divine Sense into the token. A moment later, he withdrew his Divine Sense, a contemplative look appearing on his face.
There were several messages in the token, all sent by Lin Daqiao.