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The snow reflected the sunlight so brilliantly it almost felt unreal. Up ahead, the cold mist churned and surged, creating a scene that looked equally illusory. The two little spirit beasts waited quietly in the snow.
The Daoist walked farther and farther, drawing ever closer to the freezing mist.
“...”
It was as if there was a breeze—or perhaps not.
The mist ahead suddenly surged more violently, and the area where it intensified happened to be directly in front of the Daoist. The snowy-white chill seemed to be welcoming his arrival, even parting to open a path for him.
With his staff in hand, the Daoist stepped forward, entering the freezing mist.
“...”
The mist rolled back in an instant, swiftly swallowing his figure.
Lady Calico stared at that direction, then looked at the swallow beside her. “That white mist looks pretty intense. Last time in those other mountains, a Daoist got frozen solid. What if Daoist priest freezes to death in there?”
“Don’t worry, Lady Calico. Since Master dares to walk in, he must be confident,” the swallow replied, shuffling a few steps farther away from the cat. “Besides, I’ve heard a saying.”
“What kind of saying?”
The cat stared at him, unblinking.
“A cultivator like our master—already a great practitioner with heaven-reaching skill—has a natural affinity with the world. Wherever they go, they’re rarely rejected by the spiritual resonance of the land,” said the swallow.
He added, “And someone of his cultivation—calm in temperament, easygoing by nature, never one to stir...
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