The evening breeze swept through, the iron horse under the eaves rang with a void-like sound, and the mountain was bathed in a crimson hue under the clear glow of twilight.
In Wuji Hall, Daoist Master Zhengyang, clad in a deep blue Daoist robe, stood by the window, his distinct fingers gently tapping the turtle shell, his gaze taking in the distant mountain mist.
His eyes sparkled with light, his eyebrows slightly raised, his lips slightly turned upward, his mood was rather pleasant at that moment.
No, it should be said that he's been in quite a good mood these past few years.
The sect was thriving, and every day was worth looking forward to.
If achievement defines heroes, then as the Sect Leader, he added more wealth to the sect's foundation than any of his predecessors.
Time is relentless, but to witness the sect's rise in life's twilight, he is filled with satisfaction, feeling intoxicated by the evening breeze.
