Within the bamboo courtyard.
The Dao rhythm surrounding Xiao Mo grew ever thicker and more profound. A faint, ethereal river of that same rhythm coiled around him, spinning and flowing in a seemingly endless cycle.
Fish formed from the Dao rhythm leaped with growing joy within the river, sometimes soaring into the air, sometimes diving back into the flow, brimming with spiritual charm.
Beneath Xiao Mo, an Eight Trigrams Map spontaneously formed.
Meanwhile, directly above his head, white clouds gathered into layered vortexes, one stacked upon the other, as if an unseen hand was stirring the heavens and the earth.
Finally, the river of Dao rhythm that had enveloped Xiao Mo like a chrysalis gradually turned black and white. The two colors intertwined, growing deeper and richer until his figure was completely obscured.
And from within that chrysalis, Xiao Mo's eyelashes trembled faintly—
Then, he slowly opened his eyes.
