Meng Yao sat on the ground and took out an ancient zither. She placed it horizontally across her knees and her jade-like fingers brushed across the strings gently, letting out a faint immortal sound.
The moment the sound of the zither sounded, everyone was captivated and could not help but immerse themselves in it.
Even the immortal tea in the hands of the cultivators became indifferent and tasteless.
Although the sound of the ancient zither clearly sounded in the ears of the immortals and monks, everyone's hearts were unusually quiet. Their surroundings seemed to have become extremely empty and only the sound lingered.
Meng Yao plucked the strings with her left hand to create the notes while fretting with her right. Her technique was complicated and varied, dazzling and filled with extreme precision.
At times, the sound of the zither would be deep and distant, as though time was flowing, causing one to reminisce about the past.
