In the wild mountains and forests, the damp wind swept through the forest, bringing a wave of mist.
Xu Zhenguan, dressed in plain clothes, holding a sword in one hand, slowly floated down from the sky, raising her eyes to cautiously look at the figure emerging from the mist in the forest.
It was someone appearing to be a young magician, with an ordinary appearance, unnoticeable in a crowd.
She had never met him, yet the young man's expression was quite discordant with his outward appearance, as if he had experienced many years; his gaze seemed compassionate, yet deeply harbored indifference.
"Amitabha, Your Majesty's destiny is ordained, and yet you have again seized upon an opportunity to ascend to the Heavenly Human realm. It seems this time, this old monk has miscalculated."
The young magician pressed his palms together, gently sighing.
