Palace grounds.
On a sweltering summer night, the moon was exceptionally bright and luminous, a full moon like a silver plate, hanging high in the sky, casting silver ribbons of light.
Third floor of the Observatory.
A medicine furnace burned in the center, with steam billowing outwards, spreading and dissipating in all directions, as waves of heat scattered from the furnace.
Nalan Yiren, dressed in black, sat cross-legged three feet away from the furnace, her long hair styled in a cloud bun, the sides of her sickly pale yet beautiful face flushed with heat, large beads of sweat rolling from her forehead, down her creamy slender neck, disappearing into the collar below.
Her hands raised, palms open, thick innate spiritual Qi surged from her palms, compressing and refining into visually seen seven-colored liquid beads, which she directed into the medicine furnace.
