It had a dream.
The mountain in the dream is still the same mountain, the trees are still the same trees, and the immortal is still the same immortal.
He was practicing the sword, or in other words, teaching it the art of swordsmanship. The bright silver sword light looked particularly beautiful in the sunlight. It was clearly a powerful swordsmanship, but it was as indifferent as the movement of a thousand pounds, like the erratic clouds in the sky.
The petals on the tree fell gently and floated to his hair.
The snake under the tree curled up and dozed lazily. He was not annoyed, and just smiled softly.
Conception: