```
In the mountains, there are no years or cycles, a single year spans a sexagenary cycle.
With eyes tightly closed, decades hustle by in a blink.
The vast bamboo forest sways gently in the wind, stirring into motion.
Yet Jiang Hui remains statue-like from beginning to end, seated motionless amidst the dense bamboo.
Even as bamboo leaves cloak his body, and his cheeks are layered by frost and wind.
Maintaining such a state, decades pass unnoticed.
On this day.
Jiang Hui suddenly opens his eyes that were once tightly shut.
In that instant.
A faint vastness spreads.
Like the bright moon, luminous, yet at the same time, it also possesses the unfathomable depth of an ancient well.
Two distinct temperaments emerge simultaneously in his eyes.
"I've done it," Jiang Hui exhales deeply, his body suddenly emitting cracking sounds, like popping soybeans.
