A middle-aged man with temples touched by frost, clad in a green Confucian shirt, descended slowly from the dome of the great hall. He trod upon golden lotuses formed of words, resplendent characters flickering in and out of existence around him.
Sacred, bluish-purple Literary Qi surrounded him, and the sky above transformed into illusory images of green lotuses and purple mulberry trees. Even standing among the many officials, buffeted by the immense fortune of their offices, the unparalleled Holy Qi on his person could not be concealed. His Vast Righteous Qi was perfectly formed, a brilliant, dazzling gold.
The moment he appeared, all the stone statues in the Imperial Capital's Wenchang Pavilion trembled slightly, as if in welcome. Every scholar in the city instinctively looked toward the Imperial Palace, their eyes wide with astonishment, understanding what this meant.
It was a pilgrimage to the Confucian Temple—a Saint had arrived!
