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Crack.
The snows of the Northern Sea never melted, dyeing everything in pale hues. Gale winds swept over the mountaintops, where an old man sat unmoving atop a peak. His white jade fishing rod extended deep into the endless blizzard, its crystal line pulled taut, stretching all the way into the boundless icy sea below.
Xiao Chuting had remained seated for decades without moving a muscle. The snow and wind swept past him, yet not a single flake touched his robes. His hands were steady, as if they had been cast in iron.
Muffled sounds came through the blizzard as a figure descended with the wind, two rows of medicine pouches swaying from his robes. His hair was streaked with white, and his voice was warm and deep.
Xiao Yuansi said, "Greetings, Daoist Master."
"So you've come, Yuansi." Xiao Chuting murmured, his hands unmoving, and asked casually, "Were...
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