Daolin made his way up the winding mountain path toward the main hall of their sect, each step crunching softly against stone and scattered pine needles. The early morning sun painted the distant peaks in shades of gold, while the wind carried the earthy scent of moss, dew, and distant waterfalls. The climb was familiar to him, yet today his mind was anything but calm.
He kept thinking of Meiying.
Over the last two years, the two of them had grown closer—slowly, naturally, like streams merging into one quiet river. Countless sparring sessions, nights spent discussing the Dao, shared meals under the moonlight… all those little moments had settled deep inside Daolin's heart.
As he walked, images of Meiying drifted through his mind. Her flowing red hair that shimmered under sunlight, her delicate yet determined features, the calm poise she always carried even when facing difficulty. She didn't even try to be captivating—she simply was.
