After journeying through the calm streets of the outer city, Mi Ling and Li Yan finally reached their destination: a grand and awe-inspiring gate. Standing tall and proud at the entrance were two majestic statues, exuding an aura that was nothing short of breathtaking.
The first statue depicted a Daoist Priest, radiating an air of serenity and tranquility. Despite its overwhelming presence, it seemed to welcome all who approached with open arms. Its countenance was calm yet commanding, emanating a sense of wisdom and inner peace.
In stark contrast, the second statue portrayed an ancient warrior, sword in hand, as if poised for battle at the drop of a hat. Its stance conveyed a sense of readiness and vigilance as if it were prepared to defend the entrance at any given moment. However, what caught Mi Ling and Li Yan's attention was the noticeable dimness of this statue compared to its counterpart. It seemed as though years of neglect had left it covered in an ancient layer of dust and grime as if it had stood undisturbed for countless centuries.
As the duo approached the gate, their hearts filled with anticipation and respect. Retrieving their alliance badges from their space rings, they held them up towards the Daoist Priest statue, as if seeking its approval and guidance.
At that moment, a gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it a faint scent of sandalwood. The eyes of the Daoist Priest statue seemed to come alive, their obsidian depths flickering with a faint glow. A sense of connection and understanding passed between the statue and Mi Ling and Li Yan.
With a slow, deliberate movement, the statue's hand extended towards the gate, gesturing for the duo to proceed. The gate, adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering golden accents, began to creak open, revealing the path that led to the inner city.
Mi Ling and Li Yan exchanged a glance, their excitement mingled with a touch of apprehension. They stepped forward, their footfalls echoing through the quiet emptiness beyond the gate.
*******
The air in this remote region was crisp and tinged with the scent of pine, invigorating Liang Yifei's senses . Towering peaks loomed overhead. The melody of gentle mountain streams filled his ears, a soothing symphony that served as a constant reminder of the harmonious balance he sought to achieve in his own cultivation.
The secluded mountain was shrouded in an ethereal mist, its slopes adorned with vibrant flora and shimmering crystals that held remnants of spiritual energy. A snow-capped peaks appeared on the horizon, reaching towards the heavens in towering defiance.
The mountain ranges seemed to stretch endlessly, their jagged silhouettes spanning the horizon like a sacred barrier between the mortal realm and the realm of cultivation.
Inside a hidden grotto nestled between two mighty peaks, the air was suffused with a profound stillness, as if time had forged an unbreakable bond with the earth itself. The walls were lined with shelves, sagging under the weight of dusty old tomes and scrolls, their parchment yellowed and fragile with age. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of ancient lamps, casting eerie shadows that danced across the shelves, as if the knowledge contained within was straining to break free.
Liang Yifei immersed himself in ancient texts, meticulously deciphering each writ, and absorbing the esoteric knowledge etched upon their pages. His eyes traced the intricate calligraphy, his mind plumbing the depths of the profound insights left by many ancient Dao Integration Cultivators.
Years slipped by as Liang Yifei cultivated in solitary silence amidst the scenic mountains, with days blending seamlessly into weeks and weeks elongating into a continuous passage of time....
*********
In a secluded village nestled deep within the rugged expanse of towering mountains, a sense of trepidation ran through the air. The weather, which had always been mild and gentle, now unleashed a frenzy of violent storms unlike anything ever witnessed before.
Peering up at the angry, swirling clouds above, two curious young boys found themselves pondering the mysterious phenomenon.
"What's happening?" one of the youths asked anxiously, looking around with a furrowed brow.
"I don't know, but I've never seen the weather this violent before!" the other youth exclaimed, his voice filled with concern.
"You are right," a third voice interrupted, causing both youths to turn around in surprise. Standing behind them was a middle-aged man named Uncle Ping, his face reflecting a mix of seriousness and wisdom. "Something weird is happening, and if I'm not mistaken, it seems to be centered around the mountain peak," he explained.
"The mountain peak? How did you know that?" one of the youths asked, curiosity overcoming his earlier trepidation.
Uncle Ping pointed towards the sky, his gaze fixed on the gathering clouds. "Look at the sky, the way the clouds are converging. It's as if something ominous is about to happen up there," he replied, his voice filled with a sense of foreboding.
"You two boys probably haven't heard about it," Uncle Ping continued a tinge of nostalgia in his voice. "Well, it can't be helped. You weren't born yet when the rumor started spreading."
"Rumor? What rumor?" one of the youths inquired, his face filled with intrigue.
Uncle Ping's expression turned grave. "Before you boys were even born, there was a rumor that an immortal had appeared on the mountain," he revealed solemnly.
"An immortal? For real?" one of the youths exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief.
The other youth's eyes lit up with excitement. "We should go and greet this immortal! Maybe he would take us as disciples or teach us an immortal technique!" he suggested eagerly.
Uncle Ping's face darkened, a shadow crossing his features. "I advise you not to," he cautioned, his voice filled with a hint of warning. "When the rumor spread in the past, many young men tried their luck and ventured to the mountain peak, but..." He paused, his voice trailing off. "None of them ever returned."
Uncle Ping's words hung heavy in the air, leaving a sense of foreboding in the hearts of the two young boys. The wind howled ominously, sending a chill down their spines as they absorbed the weight of his cautionary tale. The sky above them darkened as if mirroring the uncertainty that now filled their minds.
As they looked up, they couldn't help but notice the gathering clouds that swirled around the mountain peak. It was as if a storm was brewing, but this was no ordinary storm. The clouds seemed to hold a certain presence, an air of mystery that sent shivers down their spines.
As the two young boys watched the gathering clouds and felt the tension in the air, the sky suddenly erupted with a blinding flash of light. Lightning crackled across the mountaintops, illuminating the rugged terrain with an eerie glow. One by one, bolts of electricity struck the peaks, splitting rocks and igniting fires upon impact.
The lightning danced and weaved through the mountains, sending tremors through the earth below. The once tranquil village, nestled at the foothills, was not spared from the wrath of the storm. Bolts of lightning tore through houses, reducing them to smoldering ruins in an instant. The deafening thunder that followed reverberated across the valley, drowning out any screams of terror that might have escaped the villagers' lips.
The air became charged with the acrid scent of burnt wood and scorched earth as the lightning continued its relentless assault. Trees were torn asunder, their charred remnants scattered like broken toothpicks across the landscape. The force of the strikes created deep chasms in the mountain's rocky face, exposing its raw, jagged core.
The village, once teeming with life, now lay in ruins. No soul remained to bear witness to the devastation that had befallen their homes. The sense of trepidation that had hung in the air earlier was replaced by an eerie stillness, broken only by the crackling of flames and the occasional rumble of thunder.
The power of the lightning was unlike anything the young boys could have ever imagined. Its sheer force and destructive might had obliterated everything in its path, leaving behind a desolate landscape that resembled a graveyard. The once-secluded village was nothing more than a memory, swallowed by the wrath of heaven.
*********
After what seemed like an eternity, a lone figure emerged from the shadows at the base of the mountain. Clad in tattered robes, he stood silently, his eyes fixed upon the remnants of the once-vibrant village. Sympathy flickered across his face for a brief moment, a fleeting glimpse of compassion amidst the desolation.
The man's features contorted with a mix of sorrow and regret as if burdened by the weight of what had transpired. Yet, in an instant, his expression shifted, turning aloof and detached.
With a heavy sigh, he slowly turned away from the destroyed village. His footsteps were measured and deliberate as he made his way towards the mountain peak, his every movement betraying a sense of purpose. The wind whispered through the barren landscape, carrying with it a sense of solitude and isolation.
As the man disappeared into the vast expanse of the mountain peak, the world held its breathing.