Late autumn, the wilderness.
The night was still. The stars stretched into the distance, while crickets chirped softly all around.
In the cold, dark thicket, a faint glimmer suddenly appeared, like a ghostly flame over a grave, then vanished in an instant.
The howling north wind began to rise. Amid its roar, the empty plain seemed to tremble ever so slightly. Then came a sudden boom. High above, a dazzling bolt of lightning, like a brilliant ribbon, burst from the depths of the underworld. It flashed and disappeared, striking straight into the deserted mugwort thicket.
The dry mugwort burst into blazing flames in an instant, ignited by the lightning that streaked across the sky.
Thousands of miles away, in a secluded stone chamber somewhere on Mount Kunlun, an old Daoist sat cross-legged. The instant the lightning struck, he suddenly opened his eyes, deep as a dark pool, and let out a surprised exclamation.
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
