"The mysterious sword tempers bones for three hundred years, the frost blade remains untested, sleepless through the night."
The pen is sharp, each word exudes a solitary sword intent.
After writing, the robed cultivator withdrew his hand and stood, cupping his hands respectfully toward True Monarch Su Xue.
"So, it is Fellow Daoist Xuan Shuang."
True Monarch Su Xue nodded slightly, a hint of acknowledgment flickering in her eyes.
"Please take a seat."
True Master Xuan Shuang, expressionless, calmly sat at the lower left side and closed his eyes to rest.
Soon after, an elderly Daoist in hemp clothing and straw sandals, holding a bamboo cane, stepped forward, chanting.
"Cloud traces are inherently unsteady, in dreams they play among stars. Scattered into a thousand arrays of rain, leaving no trace in the human world."
Finished chanting, he chuckled and nodded to True Monarch Su Xue: "Wandering Dream, paying respects to True Monarch."
