Floating Immortal Ridge.

The night was dark and heavy.

There was a temple to the Mountain God built halfway up the mountain. Its temple statue was a benevolent-looking man holding a jade bottle in his outstretched palm. 

There was a table in front of the statue laden with burning incense and candles. Their flickering lights reflected on the statue, giving it an additional, mottled sheen.

A hunched, balding elder in worn Daoist robes sat cross-legged on a prayer mat in front of the table.

He was obviously dressed like a Daoist, yet he held a string of black prayer beads and sat cross-legged like a Buddhist monk.

If Cao Ping were here, he’d recognize the man at a glance. This was the acolyte responsible for the temple’s incense, the Firewood Daoist.

There was a courtyard outside the temple. It was full of pine and cypress trees, creating a luxurious, verdant canopy that rustled in the night winds.

Suddenly, a figure walked into the courtyard, and the rustling of the trees came to an abrupt halt.

It was a youth in blood-colored robes. His complexion was ghastly pale, and his eyes were bright red. Ghostly mists emanated from him, and he had a string of fist-sized...