The sky changed abruptly, and dark clouds pressed down as if they would swallow the mortal world. Li Haoyu stared at the data in his weather app, refreshing it three times in a row. The forecast clearly said sunny. The wind at the foot of the mountain carried the sharp, rain-soaked smell of an approaching storm, stinging his face. The image from that short video, of a figure darting through the woods like lightning, still flickered in his mind. Mount Zhongnan stood right before him, the spine of the Qinling Mountains and the ancestral home of Daoism. He had spent ten years traveling across famous mountains and rivers, seeing every trick performed by Daoist priests and monks. But the chill crawling up his spine told him that once he climbed this mountain today, he wouldn't make it back down.
