While people were terrified, the figure of Master Ziyin, the Crown Prince, suddenly appeared in the wailing night. Standing in the wind atop Zhui Feng, he rode the clouds and mist toward them.
The night stirred up a storm, and in the blink of an eye, the dark night transformed into a bright, lingering Milky Way with multicolored clouds stretching thousands of feet, continuing endlessly into the distance. A gentle breeze brushed against their faces, lightly carrying the fragrance of sweet osmanthus. Suddenly, the world became cool and refreshing, with a chilling breeze that hadn't yet reached its coldest.
Although Zhui Feng had obscured half of the sky, one glance at Master Ziyin made it difficult to divert their eyes.
As Zhui Feng descended, it shrank in size. Where the deity landed, the eight directions were cleansed of dust, and the nine fields were drenched in dew, with clouds and mist fading away, Master Ziyin stood quietly alone.
