Spring arrived with the chirping of cicadas, as Lingzhi mushrooms sprouted from the ground.
A Daoist sat cross-legged among them, surrounded by myriad spiritual medicines, each breath he took resonating with the heavens and earth.
Suddenly, light radiated from the white jade bracelet on his wrist, casting a bright glow onto the ground that took root and rapidly grew into an ancient tree, which within the blink of an eye, stood over ten meters tall.
The roots transformed into feet, the branches into arms, the green leaves into hair, and the trunk into a body.
A graceful woman descended to the ground, her immaculate soles stained with mud as she gazed at the man in blue before her.
His Daoist robe, woven from some kind of spiritual silk and Miracle Method, had turned to a common item after eight hundred years of transfiguration. Its color had dulled and the once fine fabric had roughened and frayed, yet the skin of the person it clad was as white and luminous as jade.
