```
The atmosphere dominated the southeast, aglow with radiant lights, while Mount Tai bore snow and wind, and Mount Heng was veiled in mist.
As evening approached, the wind grew sharper. Zhao Rong, standing by the railing outside of the Hidden Sword Pavilion next to the unique, single-eaved, resting-roof pavilion, gazed into the distance to see the hazy mountains layered in mist, with the clouds scattering rays of light. The mountain peaks appeared and disappeared in the fog like images from a magic lantern.
It had been more than half an hour since the disciples of the Sect Leader lineage dispersed from Tingfeng Pavilion, and Zhao Rong hadn't been idle for a moment.
The Hidden Sword Pavilion was the sect affairs office arranged for him by Mo Da.
This place was close to the deepest part of the sect's territory, and even inner sect disciples were not allowed to enter without the Sect Leader's permission.
