A few months ago, Yangzhou, Ning King Residence.
The Ning King Residence, which spans hundreds of acres, is tightly guarded by countless soldiers, so much so that not even a fly could enter.
At noon, a gentle breeze was stirring up ripples on the shimmering lake inside the residence.
King Chujiang, one of the ten Yanluo of the underworld, came walking slowly, crossing a stone bridge to reach the pavilion in the middle of the lake.
Ning King lounged on a chair, holding a small celadon cup in his hand, and slowly sprinkled fish food into the lake, enticing a swarm of fish into a feeding frenzy.
Next to him, a young monk dressed in white interrupted, his refined appearance emanating an air of natural elegance and detachment from the world.
There was also a young woman in a red dress, playing with a jade pendant and wearing a faint smile.
"You are late," the monk in the white robed said unhappily at King Chujiang's arrival.
