This truly was a landscape far removed from the mortal world.0

Beneath his feet was a mountain peak sharp as a halberd, covered in thick snow. The sky above was an expanse of deep blue, and aside from the solitary white sun, no other color could be seen. Looking down, all that was visible was a sea of clouds, rolling like waves or pouring like waterfalls. 0

Within that vast ocean of clouds, only a few distant peaks barely managed to peek through—those rare mountains qualified to meet the gaze of this sacred summit.1

There was no trace of the mundane world, nor a speck of dust from mortal life. Only immortals, perhaps, could linger long in such a place.0

At this moment, what the Daoist felt most was exhaustion and weakness. A deep, bone-deep fatigue.1

It was as if all strength in his body had been drained away, every muscle and bone filled with weariness, leaving him unable to summon even the slightest energy.0

At the same time, his willpower had been mostly spent in the final push—when he’d picked up the two little spirit beasts and climbed to the peak without pause. The thin air at the summit further dulled his mind, filling him with a strange laziness, a desire to do nothing, to think of nothing. His thoughts emptied...0