The night was like ink, silent as the grave.
Dark clouds obscured the moon, and a somber aura rose from the ground, as if the heavens were hinting that tonight was not going to be peaceful.
Taking advantage of the darkness, a horse-drawn carriage carrying Sun Simiao and his three disciples, Xiang Youxian among them, approached the suburbs, with Liu Song as the coachman.
"Daoist friend, how do you feel?" Xiang Youxian inquired.
"It's a good place to live and work in peace, and the reform of the Five Pecks of Rice Sect is well done. However, there are still some flaws left. In matters of the state, it's only sacrifice or military that you need to choose from. If one uses their body as a substitute for the divine, I'm afraid it's the path to chaos."
Putting Immortals on a pedestal and then explaining as if themselves divine is almost what every sect and dynasty do.
