Jiang Quwei, who had lived for eight hundred years, knelt in front of his memorial tablet for the first time.
During the Centenary Ceremony, the entire sect knelt three times and kowtowed nine times. She was at the end of the team of handymen, and her knees were sore. The spiritual power in her body was exhausted, leaving only the third level of Qi refining. Even the two-foot-tall pure gold statue in front of her was mocking her current downfall - her long beard and majestic solemnity, how could there be a trace of her past?
On the high platform, Xie Changyuan, the head of the Qingyun Sect, who was dressed in white and outshines the snow, was being admired by thousands of people.
He was an orphan she picked up from the snowy fields of the North eight hundred years ago, and he was also the biggest cause and effect in her life.
He tied around his wrist the red string of three cents she had casually gifted back then, and swore not to marry for the rest of his life, but he didn't know that he would kneel in front of her portrait every night, with his forehead against the cold blue brick, and call out "Master" in a mute voice.
And she, Jiang Quwei, the founder of the Immortal Sect, was now a low-level handyman who was ordered around by the steward and could only make a living by cleaning the yard with a copper polishing hammer.
The Nascent Soul was shattered and the cultivation base was sealed. It was even harder for her to walk in front of him than to reach the sky.
What made her even more frightened was that there were people in this sect who didn't want her to come back. The thing locked on the third floor of the Sutra Pavilion was a secret that she put in with her own hands eight hundred years ago. It was never shown to anyone, but now it has become a sharp blade hanging above her head.
[Late (fake) Sword Immortal Ancestor × Crazy Loyal Dog Leader]
Intention: The meaning of waiting is not to wait for what, but to live your life as a person worthy of being waited for while waiting.