This is an era when aura is almost extinct. Although this continent once had countless legends of immortals and heroes, and preserved rare treasures with endless power, as time goes by, more and more people just regard them as rumors.
Only a few sects still have some spiritual cultivation methods and simple immortal arts. In the past few hundred years, the 38th generation head of the Owl Sect has learned the art of praying for rain without a teacher. He has accumulated huge reputation among the people by praying for rain, and successfully entered palace politics to protect the country. The Grand Master of the State claimed to be himself, and after a series of thunderous operations, he continuously annexed small sects, making the Owl Sect the dominant force in the Qi State. He passed on this rain praying technique from generation to generation, so the heads of the Owl Sect were named the Great Master of the Protector of the Country for generations, and their power has been consolidated to the sky.
Thirteen years ago, the national master calculated that Xin Xiao, the eldest prince of the Qi Kingdom, was blessed with immortal luck and extraordinary talents. He wanted to take him as a disciple and go up the mountain to practice immortal arts. He promised to teach the secret method of praying for rain and inherit the sect in the future... Now, Xin Xiao has achieved success in his studies, but he received a letter from his mother and concubine, asking him to return to the palace quickly...
I thought it would be a brief episode, but I never thought that the real story would officially begin. With the continuous advancement of exploration, a conspiracy from more than ten years ago gradually emerged.
The proud male protagonist * the female protagonist who is his childhood sweetheart and junior sister, slightly sadistic and redeeming. In this world that floats like catkins, I am a small boat on the water, drifting with the current like a duckweed. The wind will blow away my direction, and the heavy rain will hit my ship. The river water that I think goes with the flow often carries me into the abyss, lost, broken, and the only tree I can rely on in the endless loneliness and darkness. You are the only tree I can rely on, allowing me to take root in the barren and cracked land and never be scattered again.
Intention: The duckweed without roots is like the drifting grass, floating on the water, chasing the water, and swinging in the water, and will eventually connect to the blue sky.